Alright folks. For some reason, ya'll aren't commenting anymore. Have ya stopped reading?
I figured that I'm not all the interesting of a writer. Once in a great while, my brain ceases just long enough to spit out something smart sounding. So instead, I'll do what I do best, ask questions. One question per post. And you may feel free to use all 4000 character spaces to answer. No simple Yes or No answers accepted. Explanations are a must.
Question #1: (I'll start easy on ya with the first one)
Evolution, creationism or Intelligent Design? If you subscribe to the Darwin theory, do you believe civilization has effectively ended "survival of the fittest" with modern medicine? If you subscribe to creationism and/or Intelligent design, who or what do you believe created/designed the universe?
COMMENT AWAY!
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
3rd shift
I hope that one day people might look back on my life and say "That guy had a good life." And I hope that maybe I could pass something onto them. I hope they don't see what I did as ordinary or mundane. I hope they can see the bigger picture that I couldn't.
I think back to a play we did in high school. Of those four, somewhat unnoteworthy, years (which I mostly filled doing musicals, tending an herb garden, cooking and trying to make myself as GAY as possible) the play "Our Town" stands out as an anomaly in what would generally be considered an uncultured and boorish community. It wasn't the best production, and by far not the most popular. If I can remember correct, between the three performances, there were a total of around 100 poor souls who braved the performance. To this day I believe that if you're going to subject yourself to the work of small town public high school drama clubs you have to have some inexplicable desire for self-torture.
But the themes that this beautiful piece of theatre put forth where out of kilter with the, loosely termed, ideology that this school purported. In the kindest words, this school lacked vision. Like a good majority of rural high schools, this institution's priorities were firmly mislaid. The poor feeble administrators, most of who had lost the ability to dream the moment they found out they were working in a school district of 1000 students, saw details. They saw the minor things. They saw truancy, tardies, test scores and tenure. The idea that maybe they weren't giving students the things they need, such as the ability to think for themselves and be allowed to express themselves, never entered their minds. They failed to see the bigger picture.
Which is why this play set itself in such juxtaposition from what I was used to being exposed to. From the point of view of the characters in "Our Town, their lives are very plain and unimportant. They seem to wander through life, from birth to death, not knowing the greater impact their existence has. Only the audience sees what they couldn't: that there is nothing that is unimportant; that it is the ordinary things that are truly extraordinary. And that it is what we DO NOT do that can have the greater impact on the world.
Last night, after bullshitting with Joe for a while and he had headed to bed to work the next morning, my brain was still teaming and I needed some kind of human interaction. But there's little to find in the way of interaction at 11:00 p.m. on Friday unless you want to spend it in a bar yelling at each other over the music. So I headed to the local Happy Chef around 11:30.
To this day, I feel sorry for the man or woman who has to put "coined name of 'Happy Chef'" on his or her resume. They probably wouldn't be my top pick for an ad or marketing exec.
I was planning on getting Take-out but once I got there, for some reason, I decided to stay. I ordered some pancakes and got a pot of coffee. I sat at the breakfast bar with several older gentlemen. There were about 15 or so college kids spread over the booths and tables sucking down coffee and cramming knowledge into their heads.
I had what I like to think of as a typical 3rd shift waitress: 30 something, slim with bad posture, graying hair, pleasant, friendly smile and sad, but very kind, eyes. She didn't put you on a level somewhere other than her's by calling you "sir" or "ma'am." No, to her you are a "hon," or "sweetie." If you looked particularly distinguished you might be a "young man" or "young lady." And even the young fellow bussing tables put down his formality. To him you were a "Mister" or "Miss." If he felt some connection, you could be his "buddy." Perhaps if the right lady walked in he would throw in a "ma'am." But "ma'ams" don't seem to frequent restaurants this late at night.
The air inside was thick with the smell of stale cigarette smoke, grease, and coffee. I loved it. It felt like any coffee shop you could walk into anywhere across the United States. It could have been a coffee shop in New York.... or even New Baden. It had a familiarity to it that made you feel at ease. Places like this are what help bond us together as a nation. It gives us all reference points that lead to the greater discovery that people in general are more similar than anyone would ever care to admit.
But this homing device of sorts is also a cause, or incubator, of that issue. The issue that we don't know how very un-alone we are. This is one of the few places were you can be surrounded by so many people and still be very very alone. The very best example of this scenario is the TV. Never in history has one device allowed so many people to share an experience yet remain completely isolated and alone.
Here I sat in this restaurant... in the company of 20 or so people, and yet... alone. I could have gone and sat next to one of those older gentlemen, but I didn't. I argued that they probably wanted to be alone.
And then something said, "Maybe they don't want to be alone, but they don't know how 'not' to be alone." And I could have helped that.
I became very angry with myself as I left an hour after I arrived. Here I had a great opportunity to connect myself with the world and probably learn something in the process and I didn't take it.
No, these people are probably not the most intriguing humans you'll ever meet. Their stories are probably no different than yours or mine.
But, then again, that's exactly why I should have talked to them.
I think back to a play we did in high school. Of those four, somewhat unnoteworthy, years (which I mostly filled doing musicals, tending an herb garden, cooking and trying to make myself as GAY as possible) the play "Our Town" stands out as an anomaly in what would generally be considered an uncultured and boorish community. It wasn't the best production, and by far not the most popular. If I can remember correct, between the three performances, there were a total of around 100 poor souls who braved the performance. To this day I believe that if you're going to subject yourself to the work of small town public high school drama clubs you have to have some inexplicable desire for self-torture.
But the themes that this beautiful piece of theatre put forth where out of kilter with the, loosely termed, ideology that this school purported. In the kindest words, this school lacked vision. Like a good majority of rural high schools, this institution's priorities were firmly mislaid. The poor feeble administrators, most of who had lost the ability to dream the moment they found out they were working in a school district of 1000 students, saw details. They saw the minor things. They saw truancy, tardies, test scores and tenure. The idea that maybe they weren't giving students the things they need, such as the ability to think for themselves and be allowed to express themselves, never entered their minds. They failed to see the bigger picture.
Which is why this play set itself in such juxtaposition from what I was used to being exposed to. From the point of view of the characters in "Our Town, their lives are very plain and unimportant. They seem to wander through life, from birth to death, not knowing the greater impact their existence has. Only the audience sees what they couldn't: that there is nothing that is unimportant; that it is the ordinary things that are truly extraordinary. And that it is what we DO NOT do that can have the greater impact on the world.
Last night, after bullshitting with Joe for a while and he had headed to bed to work the next morning, my brain was still teaming and I needed some kind of human interaction. But there's little to find in the way of interaction at 11:00 p.m. on Friday unless you want to spend it in a bar yelling at each other over the music. So I headed to the local Happy Chef around 11:30.
To this day, I feel sorry for the man or woman who has to put "coined name of 'Happy Chef'" on his or her resume. They probably wouldn't be my top pick for an ad or marketing exec.
I was planning on getting Take-out but once I got there, for some reason, I decided to stay. I ordered some pancakes and got a pot of coffee. I sat at the breakfast bar with several older gentlemen. There were about 15 or so college kids spread over the booths and tables sucking down coffee and cramming knowledge into their heads.
I had what I like to think of as a typical 3rd shift waitress: 30 something, slim with bad posture, graying hair, pleasant, friendly smile and sad, but very kind, eyes. She didn't put you on a level somewhere other than her's by calling you "sir" or "ma'am." No, to her you are a "hon," or "sweetie." If you looked particularly distinguished you might be a "young man" or "young lady." And even the young fellow bussing tables put down his formality. To him you were a "Mister" or "Miss." If he felt some connection, you could be his "buddy." Perhaps if the right lady walked in he would throw in a "ma'am." But "ma'ams" don't seem to frequent restaurants this late at night.
The air inside was thick with the smell of stale cigarette smoke, grease, and coffee. I loved it. It felt like any coffee shop you could walk into anywhere across the United States. It could have been a coffee shop in New York.... or even New Baden. It had a familiarity to it that made you feel at ease. Places like this are what help bond us together as a nation. It gives us all reference points that lead to the greater discovery that people in general are more similar than anyone would ever care to admit.
But this homing device of sorts is also a cause, or incubator, of that issue. The issue that we don't know how very un-alone we are. This is one of the few places were you can be surrounded by so many people and still be very very alone. The very best example of this scenario is the TV. Never in history has one device allowed so many people to share an experience yet remain completely isolated and alone.
Here I sat in this restaurant... in the company of 20 or so people, and yet... alone. I could have gone and sat next to one of those older gentlemen, but I didn't. I argued that they probably wanted to be alone.
And then something said, "Maybe they don't want to be alone, but they don't know how 'not' to be alone." And I could have helped that.
I became very angry with myself as I left an hour after I arrived. Here I had a great opportunity to connect myself with the world and probably learn something in the process and I didn't take it.
No, these people are probably not the most intriguing humans you'll ever meet. Their stories are probably no different than yours or mine.
But, then again, that's exactly why I should have talked to them.
Monday, April 17, 2006
88
Usually I don't pay much attention to folks who put "88", "white power" or "skinhead" in their profile. But last night a guy was pushing me on the issue.
Granted, he was hot, so I didn't want to NOT chat because of a little issue. But he kept bringing up the whole 88 and white power thing and typed 'Oi" way too much for my comfort.
So here's my take. First, if you want to get into all that as a form of sexual power play and bedroom fun, no problem. I'm not about to judge anyone by what they do in their own bedrooms/dungeons.
But I'm starting to think there are gay guys out there who take this shit pretty damn seriously and I just don't get it. Not in the freakin least.
I'll be the first to admit that I'm prejudiced. I have stereotypes I hold against people just by the color of their skin or their ethnic background.
HOWEVER, I do not believe that anyone is mentally inferior because of race or that America is best ruled by white middle aged men (wait a sec... isn't it already??)
So let me take this point by point.
88= Heil Hitler. Seriously guys. Don't you realize Hitler would have had you gassed for sucking dick? Supporting Hitler makes as much sense to me as some of these gay conservative christian fundamentalists. Don't they realize they're part of an organization that thinks they are living in sin or that they can be cured? Don't they know they support a president who thinks they are living in sin and are, for all intents and purposes, the scourge of our society? Don't they know they're part of a political party that doesn't even want their money because they're so scared of you??
The Hitler thing makes NO sense. Guys, he wanted us dead. Plain and simple. Would you support your own murderer?
White Power: Again, what the hell. The big toot by white-power folks is that America needs to be restored to it's "White" roots. Well, guys, don't you realize it was WHITE folks who brought Africans here in the first place? Do you SERIOUSLY believe that blacks should move to Africa? It's not a matter for "going back" to Africa. The blacks alive today here in America have NO connection to Africa. YOUR ancestors brought them here. Now YOU need to deal with it. And having rallies in white robes does nothing for the racial issues our nation faces. For a comparison in terms they might understand, let's say that your family breeds dogs. They CHOSE to get the dogs, they WANTED them in their world. Probably for hunting for something. Well, let's say that a few generations go by and you get a dog who won't fetch when you tell it to. You can't send it back to the pound. It didn't come from the pound. It came from something you wanted. And now that it's not doing what you want it to do, instead of working with the issue, you dance around the dog and throw stones at it and burn doggie treats, which, honestly, it just going to piss it off more.
NOTE: I'm NOT in any way saying black folks are dogs.
Skinheads: Again, a product of the Hitler camp. And again, skinheads would rather see you dead. You are a flaw in their perfect white world. Skinheads need straight, white Anglo-Saxons to breed MORE white Anglo-Saxons. You, as a gay man, have nothing for them and, in their belief, you are genetically flawed and should be eliminated, otherwise, you are going against the natural laws of selection.
I realized very early-on in college that people need three things: To feel loved, to feel useful and to feel appreciated. And I also figured out, (WAY before that fuckhead Dr. Phil made his fat-ass splash on TV) that all the issues and problems in our lives will typically boil down to one or more of those three needs. So, once again, I think we've failed as a society because, I believe, these guys identify with these groups because they want to feel loved, they want to feel useful and appreciated and they haven't been able to find it elsewhere in our society because they're told from a young age that what they are is NOT cool and there’s no where good for you to go.
But a short history lesson will tell them that these groups they try to "feel the love" from have nothing but hate for them because of the one thing they're trying to run from.
OK, off my soapbox. I got a little worked up over this on the ride to work today and I tend to use more curse words than usual then I get worked up. Sorry about that.
Granted, he was hot, so I didn't want to NOT chat because of a little issue. But he kept bringing up the whole 88 and white power thing and typed 'Oi" way too much for my comfort.
So here's my take. First, if you want to get into all that as a form of sexual power play and bedroom fun, no problem. I'm not about to judge anyone by what they do in their own bedrooms/dungeons.
But I'm starting to think there are gay guys out there who take this shit pretty damn seriously and I just don't get it. Not in the freakin least.
I'll be the first to admit that I'm prejudiced. I have stereotypes I hold against people just by the color of their skin or their ethnic background.
HOWEVER, I do not believe that anyone is mentally inferior because of race or that America is best ruled by white middle aged men (wait a sec... isn't it already??)
So let me take this point by point.
88= Heil Hitler. Seriously guys. Don't you realize Hitler would have had you gassed for sucking dick? Supporting Hitler makes as much sense to me as some of these gay conservative christian fundamentalists. Don't they realize they're part of an organization that thinks they are living in sin or that they can be cured? Don't they know they support a president who thinks they are living in sin and are, for all intents and purposes, the scourge of our society? Don't they know they're part of a political party that doesn't even want their money because they're so scared of you??
The Hitler thing makes NO sense. Guys, he wanted us dead. Plain and simple. Would you support your own murderer?
White Power: Again, what the hell. The big toot by white-power folks is that America needs to be restored to it's "White" roots. Well, guys, don't you realize it was WHITE folks who brought Africans here in the first place? Do you SERIOUSLY believe that blacks should move to Africa? It's not a matter for "going back" to Africa. The blacks alive today here in America have NO connection to Africa. YOUR ancestors brought them here. Now YOU need to deal with it. And having rallies in white robes does nothing for the racial issues our nation faces. For a comparison in terms they might understand, let's say that your family breeds dogs. They CHOSE to get the dogs, they WANTED them in their world. Probably for hunting for something. Well, let's say that a few generations go by and you get a dog who won't fetch when you tell it to. You can't send it back to the pound. It didn't come from the pound. It came from something you wanted. And now that it's not doing what you want it to do, instead of working with the issue, you dance around the dog and throw stones at it and burn doggie treats, which, honestly, it just going to piss it off more.
NOTE: I'm NOT in any way saying black folks are dogs.
Skinheads: Again, a product of the Hitler camp. And again, skinheads would rather see you dead. You are a flaw in their perfect white world. Skinheads need straight, white Anglo-Saxons to breed MORE white Anglo-Saxons. You, as a gay man, have nothing for them and, in their belief, you are genetically flawed and should be eliminated, otherwise, you are going against the natural laws of selection.
I realized very early-on in college that people need three things: To feel loved, to feel useful and to feel appreciated. And I also figured out, (WAY before that fuckhead Dr. Phil made his fat-ass splash on TV) that all the issues and problems in our lives will typically boil down to one or more of those three needs. So, once again, I think we've failed as a society because, I believe, these guys identify with these groups because they want to feel loved, they want to feel useful and appreciated and they haven't been able to find it elsewhere in our society because they're told from a young age that what they are is NOT cool and there’s no where good for you to go.
But a short history lesson will tell them that these groups they try to "feel the love" from have nothing but hate for them because of the one thing they're trying to run from.
OK, off my soapbox. I got a little worked up over this on the ride to work today and I tend to use more curse words than usual then I get worked up. Sorry about that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)