Interlude Of Ineptitude: Goodbye Blogspot, Hello WordPress

I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid... you're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you.
- Neo (The Matrix)

Just a quick post here, as these comments, an interlude as such, are caught somewhere between 'been there' and 'nice to be here'. As I mentioned elsewhere, I've decided to 'self-host' this blog and therefore am migrating it to the WordPress blogging platform and away from Google Blogger. It's something I should've done ealier, or perhaps even from the start. However, as with many folks, it was a combination of fear and complacency that prevented me from doing so.

An Explanation: Feel The Fear

It was fear of the uknown which stopped me from learning Wordpress. I eventually did and started two other blogs, the Penniless Blogger, as well as ELT Vista. Those two blogs, supporting langauge teachers and bloggers everywhere, are thriving and I'm enjoying the ease and flexibility at which I can make all things possible. I'm also less concerned that one day I may wake up and find that Google has decided to axe my blog and all it's content. Lesson to be learned: putting all your eggs in someone else's basket breeds worry. Moreover, bloggers take note, there's a few good articles on the poor practice of what's called 'digital sharecropping'. See links below for details.

Meanwhile, I let the Wooly Yarn, which I pour most of my heart, soul and creative madness into, be mired here at 'blogspot' susceptible to the ravaging whims of apathy and ineptitude that Google (aka Skynet) is known for. From spinning wheels of Javascript death to a lack of any technical support, there is only so much one blogger can take. I blame myself for not considering that even the absence of a 'www' prefix for one's blog suggests to a 'non-entity' status. For all my good intentions, since I started this blog ... I didn't know what it was, but it was  there, like a splinter in my mind, driving me mad. It was this feeling that has brought me to this present state of mind. Do you know what I'm talking about? Lord, bloggin on Blogger (blogspot) is living in the 'Matrix'!

Ok, maybe it was also ineptitude on my part for 'short sheeting' what matters most, my art. Who knows.

A Conclusion: Let My People Go

What I do know, however, is that hesitation leads to stagnation, which leads to rot and eventually decay. Death follows. Therefore, I've felt impelled to wrest myself from the confines and constructs of Google blogspot slavery. Yes, this blog was born into 'blogspot' bondage. Time to set it free.

If you are reading this at http://woolyyarn.blogspot.com: Know that nothing remains here at, except the ghostly presence of yet another false start. This blog is now self-hosted using Wordpress at www.thewoolyyarn.com  Hope to see you there soon.

If you are reading this from the new Wordpress set up, you may now rejoice along with me for my new found freedom. Thanks in advance for making the trip.

Suggested Reading:

On Digital Sharecropping:
http://www.copyblogger.com/digital-sharecropping/
http://www.roughtype.com/archives/2006/12/sharecropping_t.php

On making the move:
I am immensely thankful to John Saddinglton, the Tentblogger, for his invaluable advice on migrating from Blogger to WordPress:
http://tentblogger.com/migrate-blogger-wordpress/

Relieving Yourself In The Face Of Solemnity

Lay down all thought

Surrender to the void
It is shining
It is shining
- John Lennon (Tomorrow Never Knows)

I used to believe that each day I knew all there ever was to know. The next day, I would learn a few more things and marvel at how stupid I was the day before. That's the way it is with life. Each day brings new possibilities, new hopes, new dreams and, of course, fresh concerns. Balancing the 'yings' and 'yangs' of our existence can leave us dumbfounded as we existentially grope around in our subconscious for our minds to hang our 'sense of being' and self-worth on.

For many, juggling the psychic apparatus of their various cognitive and psychological states is serious business, and good business for many institutions come circus barkers. It's really something to meditate on.

Nevertheless, I've never been much of a meditator. In fact, I'm much too full of myself for the practice and balk at any idealistic isms that preach self-nullification. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism, but for many years, I felt as if I was my own best friend. Alone with my thoughts which I could never really share, I'd entertain myself and find ways to make myself smile. I never heard voices in my head, though I would occasionally talk to myself.

That being said, I have read much about meditation. I've done the breathing and focus-defocus exercises always coming to realization that I was trying much too hard and therefore becoming a burden to my efforts. It's easy to distract yourself with your 'self' as your self can't help but get in the way. It's easy to miss the forest for the trees ... when you are a tree. And perhaps that's really the whole point of it ... to accept yourself for who you really are.

Honestly, if one was happy with oneself, why would one want to lose oneself in a crowd? If we are happy with who we are, then how could we not look in the mirror and smile? An exercise I do each day, sort of my own special daily affirmation, is too look in the bathroom and feign a constipated expression. It always cracks me up, and for a few seconds each day the stress of all that was and all that is yet to be shatter from the moment and fall to the ground.

So how do you distract yourself from distraction? Some would say by training yourself to get lost in the moment. This a far cry from suggesting we lose our minds. Even former vice-president Dan Quayle misquoted "What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is." I would wholeheartedly agree, if I knew he knew what he was talking about. Unfortunately, he doesn't ... or rather didn't, so the point is moot.

What I do know is that when we lower our guard, demand less and have fewer expectations we are more apt to really enjoy any given moment. I can't vouch for living fully in each moment, because that sounds a bit too wide-eyed and pollyanish for my taste. Sorry, but it's just not in my nature to prance or frolic. Still, I firmly believe that freeing yourself from the gravity of some moments seems doable.

Still, brazenly relieving yourself in the face of solemnity will most definitely ruffle the britches of the hand-writhing and hard-washing rank and file. Some will encourage we be all that we can be. Others will admonish us to lose all sense of independent existence. In both cases, these 'powers that be' surreptitiously suggest that we surrender ourselves, not so much to a void, but to their will. In marketing, this is known as the old 'switch and bait' ploy.

There are many who are seeking a spiritual state of mind. This is a mistake. It's our minds that get in the way of the manifestation of a spiritual state. I'd suggest it's easier to shoot for achieving a spiritual state of 'spirit'. Now defining spirituality is a matter for another post, but trust me I can can definitely propose the following advice: raise your spirits and your mind will follow.

--------------------------------
Suggested Reading:

Whose Shoes Are These? (An Introspective Question)

"You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
in any direction you choose.
You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who'll decide where to go."
- Dr. Seuss


Hang on for a second ...

An easy question to ask concerns how often you find yourself having to justify yourself to others. A harder question, and one I might suggest may be much more important, is how often you find 'others' having to justify themselves to you?

I just want to say ...

Do everyday conversations you have with others feel like losing battles 'you must' win? Does social banter take on the sensation that it's taking place with a fast-taking salesman on a used car lot? When speaking with others, are you simultaneously carrying on a conversation with that 'inner voice' talking in your head? Indeed, it often feels like there are so many questions and so little time. And, by the time you are ready to make your point, the conversation has already ended.

Let me just tell you something ...

For many, such situations are a daily phenomenon that ultimately lead to yet another blow to their self-esteem. Each daily interaction with others becomes a psychometric test of their self-worth, more often than not surrendering the same feeling of futility they have grown accustom to. Rather than questioning the value and certainty of the world around them, they seem hell-bent on devaluing themselves.

No. You've got it backwards, so let me explain ...

When the 'shoe is on the foot' in our lives, we tend to notice because something just doesn't feel right. In times of mental anguish, we seem to be hard-wired with a bit of genetic coding that runs a self-diagnostic sub-routine that checks for 'broken code'. Depending on the individual and his or her self-perception, this process of introspection usually yields one of two results. In some, a resounding “I'm OK” conclusion explodes in their consciousness, and life goes on. In others however, a form of overload manifests causing a cascading chain of self-destructive implosions rendering the individual … stifled. This latter individual, flogging himself as he moves to the side of the road, eventually breaks down into a quivering mass of self-questioning defeatism.

Can I get a word in edgewise?

When it's time to play the 'blame game', one's passiveness turns aggressive. The desire to throw the heavy yoke from one's back is a halfhearted and bitter affair. Shades of the 'garbage in, garbage out' mantra' are heard. “I'm having a hard time of late digging myself out of a hole I've dug for myself some years ago. You want to know why? Because my hole is really at the bottom of a much larger hole that was dug for me by others long ago.”

If you could just wait, please ...

Meanwhile they keep digging under the delusion that the answer to all their problems lies at the end of the deep and dark shaft they have hurled themselves into. They valiantly hope to find that what's upside down in their lives, may in fact become right side up at the end of their struggle. So, they keep digging and banging their heads on the walls around them as they sink lower and lower into the abyss.

Let me interject ...

Yes, some people think that their problems are sort of like the Earth. If they dig down far enough eventually they will find that what's down is up. Of course, this is a poor analogy because way before they reach 'China' they will invariably fry themselves silly in our planet's molten core (13000°F). Yes, people like this tend to miss the big picture, and it's the 'little things' they miss that ultimately will be their undoing. Coincidentally, did you hear about the man who tried to walk around the world? He drowned.

Can I just finish, please?

Sometimes, being able to see the 'big picture' simply means viewing it from another angle, and yes it is generally true that there are many angles to all things in life. While we can't turn our heads completely around, we can at least 'turn the other cheek' especially in regard to ourselves. To be honest, even a 90 or 180 degree turn may be all that's needed to give ourselves a different spin on things. But first, we need to remove the blinders we have grown so comfortable wearing, especially if we want to catch the 'first ray of the new rising sun' in our lives.

Let's cut to the chase ...

Yes, the sun can shine out your ass, too. However, first you must learn to embrace and love yourself. Put an end to all the self-questioning and self-doubting you humiliate yourself with. Accept yourself for who you are and stop seeking justification from within, and especially from others. In fact, if you find others having to justify themselves to you, I'd argue that's probably a good thing. Indeed, the shoe IS on the other foot. Wear it proudly.

Suggested Reading:


Suggested Listening:

Contrarian Pseudo Babble: A Play With No Parts

PROLOGUE:

[An encounter outside the Katywonkered Cafe']

THE PHILOSOPHER:
Before setting off on a voyage, the pagans gather for a feast.

The mind vomits forth ... and none are saved.


ACT I

THE PRACTICAL ONE:
So, where are we off to?

THE CYNIC:

Lord only knows. Nowhere fast from what I can see.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Well, that's a great attitude to have. Don't you have a plan?

THE CYNIC:

What do you think I sit around plotting my every step?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Planning. You mean planning your every step.

THE CYNIC:

Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Who cares! Let's just get on with it, then.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Sure but I'd just like to know ... like, where we are headed.

THE CYNIC:

North. I'm sick of downtown. Hell is overrated.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Fine. We'll take one step at a time.

WORRY WART:

I just hope I don't get hungry along the way.

THE CYNIC:

Of course you'll get hungry! That's your whole ball of wax.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Ball of wax?

THE CYNIC:

He get's hungry, that's what his life is about. And, if he's not hungry he worries about it and the stress makes him eat. He's a nervous eater that one is, always weighing us down. He's almost as bad as you.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Me?

THE CYNIC:

Dealing with the little practicalities of life. Always sweating the little things.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

And you on the other hand?

THE CYNIC:

Me? Why, I like to stuff myself to oblivion until I'm sick. Lord, give me those two minutes of complete satiation ... and then I'm sick, deservingly so.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

What's the point of that?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

It's like whacking off.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Well, I can relate to that, but just so you realize you've probably just bit the hand that feeds us.

THE CYNIC:

Who?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

The readers. Like, you've probably just blown off half of them with that comment.

THE CYNIC:

Who cares! I doubt they've even read this far. Judgmental assholes. We need them like we need a hole in the head.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

And their money?

THE CYNIC:

What money? Clicking on one of these crappy text links embedded in the post costs them nothing, but that's just too much to ask of them, I guess. Right? Heaven forbid they might actually sprain their finger. Lord! It's not like we're really expecting them to actually risk a hernia by pulling out their credit cards and buying something below in the 'suggested reading' section.

THE ARTIST:

I'm not in it for the money.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

But you need to eat ...

WORRY WART:

Did anyone bring a sandwich?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

The bread of existence is found at the end of the meal.

THE CYNIC:

Fuck Off!

THE PHILOSOPHER:

And so it is written.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Um, let's get back to the money issue. Does anyone ...

THE CYNIC:

Don't worry. We can make some more, just like the 'powers that be'.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Really? And how do we do that exactly? By hook or by crook?

THE ARTIST:

We can write the next hit 'country song'. I mean if the 'Duck Song' can get almost 60 million hits on YouTube ... why can't we ... um ... you know ... um ... (muttering) just saying.

THE JUGMONGER:

Howdy Folks! I'm fine. How Are You?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

It's about time you showed up.

THE CYNIC:

A day late, and I would imagine a dollar short, as usual. No one sends him any money either.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

You know, money doesn't grow on trees. Hey, got any bread, man?

THE JUGMONGER:

Heck, I just came over from way over yonder and couldn't even find me a pan to handle with, let alone a pot to piss in. I'm so hungry I'm fartin' cobwebs over here.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

A rolling stone grows no moss. Feel free to ramble on.

THE CYNIC:

So basically you show up empty handed just to deliberately waste our time. I don't buy it. Someone needs to shake him down. I bet he's holding.

THE JUGMONGER:

Well, look at the time! I got to get goin'! I reckon I'll catch y'all on the flip flop.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Like, don't you have anything to contribute?

THE ARTIST:

Something from the Bard, perhaps?

THE JUGMONGER:

I tell y'all what, I'll leave y'all with some words of wisdom: "Everyday above ground is a good one!" Know what I mean? I think y'all do.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

That sounds familiar.

THE CYNIC:

So does "suicide is painless". Somebody shoot me ... or him. Please!

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Oh come one. Enough with the sarcasm, already.

WORRY WART:

Yeah. We need to focus here. It'll be dinner time soon and it's getting dark.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Darkness seeps in through the brush of night curtailing the thoughts of effervescent dreamers and suffocating the whims of bright thinkers.

THE CYNIC:

Blah, blah, blah. (mocking) I'm alone with my thoughts, ready to eat my own brain.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Into the soup of primordial ooze is from whence you came.

WORRY WART:

Did someone say soup?

THE CYNIC:

You guy's are ruining everything! You're spoiling my trip!

THE ARTIST:

I've hardly said a word, lyrically speaking.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Don't blame us for your problems. You're the one that keeps dragging us down. You and your self-destructive tendencies. You're your own worst enemy and you know it. Mr. Paranoid and Mr. Procrastination rolled into one.

WORRY WART:

Who? Me?

THE CYNIC:

Wait, quiet down. Who's that idiot over there?

THE ARTIST:

He looks like a kindred spirit. What's with the Cheshire smile?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

He looks like he's laughing himself silly.

THE CYNIC:

Great, just what we need, another clown. Look at him, he's laughing at his own jokes! How pathetic.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Maybe he'll have something interesting to add. Lord knows we can use a bit of levity here.

THE ARTIST:

Per chance to crack wise ... said the joker to the thief.

THE CARD:

(laughs) That's sounds like something I would say! What a card! I'm really too much! Speaking of 'cracks', did you hear about the guy who went to see his proctologist, Dr. Ben Dover? (laughing incessantly).

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Oh Lord. Fecal humor.

THE WORRY WART:

I think I'm getting queasy...

THE PHILOSOPHER:

The dung beetle thanks the sacred cow for more than just its musings.

THE ARTIST:

How now brown cow.

THE CYNIC:

What an ass.

THE CARD:

Now, see I wouldn't have said "ass". I would've said something like "butt" (laughs), you know? A "butt" is a lot funnier than an "ass".

THE CYNIC:

You would know.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

What's the difference?

THE CARD:

Well, I've been the "butt" of many jokes, but I've never been the "ass" of a joke! (laughs). Lord, I crack myself up.

THE CYNIC:

Ok, time to dump this one.

THE CARD:

'Farting' is such sweet sorrow. (ROFL) Hey wait a minute! Did someone say 'dump'?

THE ARTIST:

It's much too late for goodbyes.

THE CYNIC:

Forget him. Time to get back to my wallowing in my own misery

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Let the writhing of the hands begin in earnest.

THE CYNIC:

(hurt) Who asked you anyway?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

I and the universe alone. That's enough for me.

THE CYNIC:

That's enough out of you.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

All right. Let's just keep it together here until we get to where we're going.

THE CYNIC:

Who said we we're going anywhere?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

You did! You said we're going North.

THE ARTIST:

(sings) ... where seldom is heard a discouraging word.... (hums)

THE CYNIC:

"North" is not a place. It's a direction. Forget it. Let's stay here and spin our wheels.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Actually, it may be a state of mind. Sort of like "home" ... the rise and fall of limbo.

THE ARTIST:

(sings) home, home on the range (hums)

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Well, I've been waiting for you all day. Stop spinning your wheels and let's get a move on.

THE ARTIST:

(sings) ... spinning wheel, got to go round. Talkin' bout your troubles it' a crying shame (hums)

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

(tsk) that's not funny.

THE COMIC:

I'll be the judge of that. Here's comes the judge, here comes the judge... (fade out)

THE CYNIC:

This is pointless.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

No, there has to be some point to this all. It's called Karma.

THE CYNIC:

So now I'm supposed to just accept my fate?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Indeed. It's is inevitable.

THE CYNIC:

Well, sorry but I don't buy that.

THE ARTIST:

(sings) how much is that doggie in the window... (hums)

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

That's pretty much the dogma of life. That's the way it goes.

WORRY WART:

How can you be so calm about it?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

I'm not calm. In fact, I've got a plethora of existential angst.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

(nods to the direction of THE CYNIC) I thought that was "his" problem.

THE PHILOSOPHER:
No. He's just suffering from insecurity. Mr. Passive Aggressive don't you know.

THE CYNIC:

Oh! A lot you know, Mr. know it all! I suppose you think you've got it all figured out.... life, the universe and everything, huh?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

You don't need to know the answer when you already have the solution.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Huh? What does that mean? Can you be just like a tad more practical?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Not intentionally, no. Effort requires motive. I am motiveless, spurned on by a drive to brave the face of insanity.

THE PRACTICAL:

Oh my God! This is ridiculous. This ... this will never work. You know, we may as well just go home and start from scratch.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Ah, but see that's part of the problem. We can never really go home, can we?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Are you asking me?

THE ARTIST:

(sings) home, home on the range (hums)

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

We've been here before.

THE CYNIC:

There's just really no point in going on. You know ... I just want to stick my head in the ground and make the world go away.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Sure, as if that will really solve anything at all.

THE CYNIC:

I can't keep going on like this. I need a break.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

And, what will you do with it once you get it?

THE CYNIC:

Live the good life ... or who knows, maybe I'll just fuck it up anyway.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

See, you know, like that's why you need to get organized.

THE CYNIC:

Forget that! It's too hard. Who wants to waste a whole day being anal retentive? Better to slack off and call yourself a creative type.

THE ARTIST:

I'm a better improvisor than organizer.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Oh ye of fanciful dreams!

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Ah! Now we are getting somewhere. You use wit and sarcasm to front for your lack of willpower and drive. I know you. You work your ass off for a couple of hours and then you fart around for the rest of the day. You've got no self-control. You are the master of the art of self-distraction.

WORRY WART:

I'm getting hungry.

THE CYNIC:

I get tired.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

You get bored.

THE CYNIC:

I want something better in life.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Bullshit! You don't want to work hard.

THE ARTIST:

But I'm the creative type.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Even artists need to be organized. Practice makes perfect.

THE CYNIC:

Perfection is for the establishment. I'm a non-conformist.

THE ARTIST:

And what of the karma of the struggling artist?

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Fate will lend a hand.

THE ARTIST:

And what of the muse?

THE CYNIC:

What are you talking about? It's the muse that distracts me and fills my head with romantic notions ... that ultimately leave me depressed.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Inebriated with words of delusion.

THE ARTIST:

They're inspiring!

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

They're motivational!

THE PHILOSOPHER:

It's divine providence, perhaps.

THE CYNIC:

It's a lot of crap. That's what it is. It's bullshit. You're just playing to my ego.

THE ARTIST:

When the calmness of the waters, settle over my head. I will see visions of my music dancing around me like the wind gusts of a tornado.

THE CYNIC:

Absurdists galore! Why can't you write something that makes sense ... and make us some real money for once!

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

He tries. But he's not trained as a writer.

THE CYNIC:

He just makes this stuff up, and we all have to suffer.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

He must follow his own path, though the path to glory is not necessarily paved with gold.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

So, what's it paved with?

THE CYNIC:

It's paved with dog shit. That's what it's paved with. And with every step we take, there is just another steaming pile to tread on. It's all bullshit, man.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Why are you always so negative? It's sooo frustrating to be with you. Most of the time you're just being contrary!

THE CYNIC:

I beg to differ. Anyway, if you don't like it, then why don't you just get the hell out of here and leave me the hell alone. All of you! Just fuck off. Get the message.

THE ARTIST:

(sings) message a bottle ... (hums) message in a bottle (hums) ....da da da da da ... (sings) Communication break down. Its always the same. I'm having a nervous breakdown. Drive me insane! (hums)

THE PRACTICAL ONE:

Ok, if that's the way you want it. I'm walking.

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Have a good trip.

EPILOGUE:

[time passes]

THE PHILOSOPHER:

Time will tell.

-----------------------------------------------

Suggested Reading:

Suggested Listening:

Lie To Me! Fabrications, Fables, Fairy Tales And Fibs

"He gives speeches, but they put him back in bed where he wrote his satire."

- Brian Wilson, 'He Gives Speeches' (original lyrics)

I think it was in kindergarten when I remember being told the story of little George "I cannot tell a lie" Washington and the cherry tree he confessed to his father he had chopped down. Through this vignette, my classmates and I were admonished to always tell the truth. The only problem was that often told tale ... is a lie, a fabricated fable of fibbing fiction. It was actually created by biographer, Mason Locke Weems, as an anecdote laudable to Washington's character and as an "exemplary to his countrymen". Nevertheless, this fractured fairy tale is almost as hallowed as the national anthem.

When I was 2 years old, the US Congress passed the 'Gulf of Tonkin Resolution' granting President Johnson the wanton power to take military action as he saw fit in Southeast Asia, ostensibly to combat the spread of communist aggression. The passage of the resolution, enabling Johnson to launch America full-tilt into the Vietnam war, was predicated on a fabricated set of events suggesting that American naval vessels had come under unprovoked attack by the North Vietnamese.

When I first heard the above tale, I remember being skeptical. I'm not sure why my 'bullshit detector' went off that day. Perhaps it was the result of a burgeoning character flaw or a latent psychic ability to perceive the teacher's own insincerity in her own overly dramatic rendition of the fable. Some might say that my lack of gullibility at that tender age speaks volumes of my character or my perception of ethics. And, indeed early on I began to question my moral constitution. In retrospect, I was 'looney' to do so.

When I was 3 years old, my sister told me about a cow that jumped over the moon. My grandmother, whose stock reply to most things was "tell it to Sweeney", later cracked that the moon was made of cheese.

As a society, we seem to be obsessed with lies. Parents spend eons of time drilling the words “don't lie to me” and “be honest!” into their children's heads. Fairy tales and fables regularly espouse 'golden rules' and long-winded speeches on ethics. Yet, we allow 'big business' concerns to lie to us on a regular basis under the pretenses of marketing. Similarly, I don't think patriotism has anything to do with our accepting that some politicians and lawyers actually lie for a living. Incredibly, the 'powers that be' of government even enact laws of impunity, pardoning such actions under the guise of national security. Yes, it's a bitter pill to swallow, but one that's administered every day.

When I was 4 years old I remember my pediatrician telling me he had to look in my ear to see if there was a puppy or elephant hiding in there. A moment later, brandishing a hypodermic needle about two feet long, he dismissed my fears by telling me, “this won't hurt”.

Teachers lie to us, transmitting historical revisionism with out a thought, and in many cases without knowledge of the fabricated fiction they force feed us. After all, if it's written in the history books ... well then it's must be accurate. The truth is that we know the truth, but we dismiss it anyway, waving it away like a cloud of smoke.

When I was 5 years old, Lucky Strike cigarettes launched an ad claiming that 20,679 physicians suggest that 'Luckies' are 'less irritating' than other brands, and that the 'coffin nails' represent “your Throat Protection against irritation and against cough”.

Hollywood films makes us believe that which is unbelievable, and we love it. In fact, we expect movies to defy our expectations in this respect. Ask George Lucas, who replaced "Muppet" Yoda with 'computer generated image (CGI)' Yoda.

When I was 6 years old, I convinced my first grade teacher that I could speak Chinese. I did so by counting to 10 in mono-syllabic utterances that sounded more like 'Klingonese' than anything Asian oriented. She was so impressed she fawned over my abilities in my mother's presence at their first parent-teacher meeting. My mother, nonplussed, rebutted the claim forthwith. Upon returning home, she asked me why I had lied to my teacher. I responded by asking her if she spoke Chinese.

Scientists are still working on revising the absolute laws of physics, given what we now know or don't know about sub-atomic particles and quantum theory. Nevertheless, schoolchildren are still taught that said laws are absolute.

When I was 7 years old, the Nixon administration dramatically increased funding for the voluntary sterilization of low-income Americans, statistically represented by Americans of color. In light of the 'Family Planning Services and Population Research Act', government funded sterilization programs organized at the behest of the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (HEW) were accelerated. With respects to Native Americans, it is later revealed via anecdotal evidence that procedures are carried out on patients who were often misinformed of said procedures.

It seems the hardest thing we can do sometimes is be honest with ourselves. You'd think we'd have some inner defense mechanism that prevents us from psychologically pulling the wool over own eyes, but we obviously don't. Many seeking the "truth" of their existence and their shortcomings are easily led astray by nefarious types offering reams of rhetoric and who offer salvation in exchange for blind faith and allegiance.

When I was 8 years old, I kind of figured out that the tooth fairy didn't exist. The handwriting on the encouraging notes she left under my pillow was just too close to my mother's. I recognized it from those notes I had to take to school explaining my frequent absences.

We embrace the concept of 'sometimes its better not to tell the truth' when it's convenient. When faced with adversity we justify, rationalize and defend our actions, regardless of whether we were selfless or self-serving when acting either in our own or in others' regard. Claims of moral ineptitude fall on our defiant deaf ears.

When I was 9 years old, the Watergate scandal exploded. Journalists everywhere feigned a 'holier than thou' attitude. Nevertheless, the news media regularly bends the truth in the name of gaining ratings. Of course, the media doesn't lie, so much as it just withholds the truth. No comment needed.

We really are our own worst enemies. It's ironic how we take take perverse pleasure in watching the witty con-artist shake down his mark, unless the mark is us ... which is exactly what we tend to be when we're desperate and willing to believe anything or anybody, especially those we hold dear.

When I was 10 years old, I convinced myself, that the religious life my family began to live didn't suck. It did, but still I went on convincing myself for another 15 odd years … very odd indeed.

Nevertheless, rather than putting faith in ourselves we're asked to put our faith in science, religion, government and in others. Question the ethics of these purveyors of 'the truth' and you get self-righteous indignation. Indeed, as any schoolchild will tell you, "he who denied it, supplied it."

Suggested Reading:

  

Suggested Listening:

Trackbacks / Pingbacks / Links:

http://encyclopedia.jrank.org/articles/pages/6242/Forced-Sterilization-of-Native-Americans.html#ixzz1X74GZrFI
http://civilliberty.about.com/od/gendersexuality/tp/Forced-Sterilization-History.htm
http://encyclopedia.jrank.org/articles/pages/6242/Forced-Sterilization-of-Native-Americans.html
http://xroads.virginia.edu/~cap/gw/gwmoral.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_of_Tonkin_incident

We Come In Peace: How About An Anal Probe?

Okay, you guys, this joke has gone far enough! There were no aliens! They didn't give me an anal probe and they can't control my mind!

- Cartman (South Park)

In this crazy mixed up galaxy, it's hard to know who's who, what's what and what THEY want. Of course, THEY can say the same, but the universal consensus apparently suggests that we are not the same. To be honest, we're not really sure who THEY are or if they even exist, but many folks are real nervous just the same.

There's been some discussion concerning a recent study that reviewed a number scenarios depicting the nature of contact with alien life forms, in other words, extra-terrestrials. The study basically assesses a variety of science fiction themes to reach some conclusion over what contact with extra-terrestrials might reap, and whether or not this is something we might actively want to be pursuing. Word making the rounds is that our ultimate fate may be decided by our galactic neighbors, possibly in the name of 'keeping the neighborhood safe'.

Ok, so everyone wants to know who or what might be lurking out there in the great galactic void, and of course, what their intentions are. According to the study, a review of science fiction themes reveals the following scenarios:

• Galactic Bullies: These types want our 'shit', be it our planet's natural resources, ourselves in the form of slave labor or just our physical location in time and space, as suggested in the classic The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in which Earth is to be destroyed due to the expansion of a “a hyperspace bypass”. Yes, humanity has less intrinsic value than interstellar infrastructure.

• Join The Galactic Club: Anyone who has ever watched Star Trek knows abut 'the Federation of Planets', a sort of utopian 'NATO' of species, all working for the common good. They learn from us, we learn from them, and everyone holds hand while singing “Joy To The World” and hugging trees.

• You've Got Cooties: This scenario basically suggests that the intelligent life that thrives amongst the stars basically just wants to stay out of our way and keep its distance. This could stem from the fact that we are too barbaric in nature, or perhaps because we have no respect for our environment ... or simply because some of us really think Sarah Palin should be President.

Sarah Palin For President

The study concludes that we really don't know what route contact with aliens may take, because we just don't know too much about extra-terrestrial species. Basically, it offers that nothing from nothing reaps nothing … but we should be careful anyway, and not assume one way or the other. In other words: more research is needed.

I find it interesting that our search for what lies 'out there' always begins with a look within ourselves. Given the eccentric and egocentric nature of the human psyche, I'm not sure if this always a good idea. Moreover, a fundamental flaw of the above mentioned study is that it makes no mention of Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica … but that's another issue.

Early science fiction often applied humanoid features to visitors from outer space. No one could really fathom an extra-terrestrial that looked like a turnip or a licorice whip. Similarly, the tenements of Judea-Christian religions suggest that the nature of God is non-corporeal and possessing of ways beyond our comprehension. Dogma suggests that we need take a blind leap of faith when it comes to doing the Lord's work. Nevertheless, despite this caveat, our belief structure continues to cling to the notion that God created man in 'his' image. Logic would dictate that the Klingons, deferring to their own religious beliefs, might beg to differ. Ah, but then logic was never our strong point, was it? I think Mr. Spock would concur … but then again he was half-human, wasn't he?

Certainly contact with an extra-terrestrial species, or a galactic club of life forms, would indelibly leave its mark on our collective 'state of being' yielding a plethora of spiritual, physical, psychological disconnects. It would definitely 'blow our minds'. Still, we all have expectations of what a 'Close Encounter of the 3^rd Kind' may present. Conjecture runs rampant. Some have grand visions, others have delusions of grandeur … others still are worried about an anal probe. Regardless, should such an event occur, I think we need to rethink our thinking.

Relatedly, a theme in some of my posts concerns defying the expectations of others and, of course ourselves. I think there's a connection here to be made in the sense that we need to be more open minded when considering possible contact with 'visitors'. They may not necessarily come in peace or in war … they may simply come for the food. Moreover, not everything in life revolves around anal probes or inter-species breeding. 'E.T.' may simply want try a chicken and ribs combo.

We are basically social creatures, and curious ones at that. We dream about voyages to “seek out new life and new civilizations”. We also have a daredevil penchant “to go where no man has gone before”. Still, it is often said that 'curiosity killed the cat'. In this vein, since we really don't know the nature of any other galactic beast, other than ourselves, I'd suggest it's one thing to contemplate contact with alien life who happen about our planet, but it's another to consider beginning a marketing campaign.

In the early 70s, a Canadian progressive rock group called 'Klaatu' formed, naming themselves after the alien protagonist in the film The Day The Earth Stood Still. In 1976, they released a neat and nifty song called "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft". The songs suggests the declaration of a 'World Contact Day' in which humans would collectively communicate a telepathic the message to all possible extra-terrestrials that “we are your friends”. I often marveled at such a wonderful concept fostering the idea that humanity could be united in such a common goal. Nevertheless, the prolific message of this song was lost on the public who were more concerned at that time with trying to confirm rumors that the  musicians were actually the Beatles reformed and recording under a pseudonym. Alas, I have no doubt that should an emissary from another planet arrive, some fool would jump from our welcoming committee to ask if Elvis were alive and living on Uranus!

Since we are obviously a threat to our selves, we are certainly a threat to others. In this sense, some suggest we should 'keep a low profile' and not overly advertise our presence in the cosmos. It's been suggested that programs such as METI (Messaging to Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence) that aim to actively contact intelligent aliens may yield less than stellar results. This example of 'nervous Nelly' thinking may have some merit amongst those with clenched butt cheeks. Still, I like to think that throwing caution to the wind is the only way we may be someday be able to overcome the “the Great Silence in the Universe”. After all, isn't that the nature of social networking platforms like Facebook and MySpace? So indeed, I say we should say "hey!" and let our presence known! Lord knows, I could use a few more followers on my Twitter account.

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PS. Thanks for reading. Are you nervous at the prospects of contact with alien species? Do you think such beings would be benevolent or malevolent? Do you think we should sending greetings into outerspace, or are you more concerned that Sarah Palin might jump into the US presidential race? Let me know by commenting below.

Suggested Reading:




Suggested Listening:




Links / Reference / Trackbacks / Pingbacks:
http://paleblueblog.org/post/9110304050/some-important-points-of-clarification
http://flickr.com/photos/91351004@N00/1300319055
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Klingon_female_model.jpg
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Alien.png

It's Me! Really! (and other notions of authenticity)

Hang on to your ego
Hang on, but I know that you're gonna lose the fight
- Brain Wilson

I've come to the conclusion that everyone 'needs help'. Of course, this last statement can be taken in a number ways. Be that as it may, my focus in this post ... the point I'd like to make ... the crux of the issue is that there are many people out there, and bloggers in particular, that are desperately trying very hard to be themselves, but just can't fake it.

That's right, I said 'fake it'. It seems a running topic on several blogs I've come across is 'authenticity' and its definition or application, assuming there is such a thing. I imagine this is a big issue because so much of our society's feeble mindedness stems from the media 'selling' us almost everything. As a consequence, consumers, assuming there really is such a thing anymore, have become naturally distrustful in an effort to mask thier gullability and penchant for 'rubber necking'.

For many, there is a war on. Some are trying very hard to simply be themselves, despite the fact that they are often met with quizzical faces or outright apathy. Then, there are others who yearn to evolve and embrace 'real' change in their lives. Telling the latter to 'just be yourself' may very well represent an affront to their sensitivities. The rest of combatants in this war, and most likely the clear majority, are those who are very busy lobbing advice telling everyone else what they should be, what they should think, how they should act, and of course, what they should buy. These purveyors of expectations often begin their assault with the words “I'll be honest with you...”, also implying that normally they would be less than ingenuous. Critical thinkers take note!

But I just want to be myself.....

So what is authenticity? Without waxing too poetic, I'd suggest that it is an attribute that can only exist in the eye of the beholder. It really has nothing to do with 'you being you'. So my advice is stop trying so hard. In fact, many would suggest if you have to try so hard at being something, you probably aren't in the first place. As I've said many times before concerning 'defying expectations', I think it's more important we get on with life than spend so much time worrying about 'what others think'.

Being 'you' should come naturally, if you don't engage in acts of self-censorship and self-repression, or cowtow to the whims and expectations of others. The words of Dr. Seuss still ring true, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”

Lastly, if and when you are met with bogus claims of your being two-faced, it would be wise to remember the words of Abraham Lincoln who respsonded “If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?”

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PS. Thanks for reading. Are you worried about who you are and how others perceives you ... or are you just really into yourself? Let me know by commenting below.


Blogs that inspired this post:

Brian Clark / Copyblogger: Why People Don’t Want the“Real” You
Todd Pillars: Why the talk about being Authentic all of a sudden?

Suggested Reading:

    


Suggested Listening:

I Told You I Was Trouble: Amy Winehouse RIP (1983-2011)

I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would,
I told you I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good,
 - Amy Winehouse, 'I'm No Good'

 He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And there's no way, in this blue shape,
My tears dry on their own.

- Amy Winehouse, 'Tears Dry On Their Own'

What the hell's the matter with you?” is a question that's often been fired at me point blank in varying contexts, by an even more varied collection of people. Parents, sibling, employers, and colleagues have all hurled this inquisitive barb in my direction. My answer? Well, in general, I'd suggest that the question is moot.

To be honest, I think it's a strange question, because more often than not, it's a question that's asked through a veil of perception that gnaws away at the inquisitors' sensitivities... or expectations. In fact, I'd argue that it's not really even a question, but more of a statement of exasperation, spoken by a chafed few who have yet to fathom that there are just some things, situations or people that they can't control in life.

For better or worse, some people have self-destructive tendencies. Maybe the term 'self-destructive' is a bit overkill in relation to some, yet on the other hand, its an understatement in relation to others. Nevertheless, in our society's ever mangling penchant to label and pigeon hold everything, terms tend to have more function than brains.

Usually, when non-conformists fail to conform, as is their nature to do so, they tend to be embraced by some and vilified by others. Ok, so it goes without saying that we can't be loved by all people, all of the time. That's a given. Regardless of who you are are or what you stand for, some people will love you and some people will hate you... even on principle! For non-conformists, this seems true to the extreme.

Yet, there are those odd occasions, when some non-conformists actually succeed in breaking through into dizzying heights of mainstream popularity, much to the dismay of their detractors' bile. When this occurs, industries spring up around such new found 'celebrities' as everyone scrambles to jump on the grandstanding bandwagon to gain purchase, or stranglehold. But wait, it's gets stranger, as an eventual realignment of sentience takes place.

Our society has a bad habit of perverting 'the unique and different' in a profane attempt to remould them in its 'socially correct' or 'fashionably sensible' image. When that fails, then at some point it is inevitable that what goes up must come down... usually in spectacular flames. Indifference sets in as interests turn to seek out 'the next big thing' and the 'haters' are let out of the closet, and into the arena, to mercilessly pick, peck, poke and point fingers, in true vulture fashion. Ok, so I know that vultures don't actually point fingers, but well ... you know what I mean.

There are those who just enjoy stating the obvious. I don't. I've written before about defying the expectations of others and of engaging in self destructive career nullifying behavior. On that note, you can pout all you want, roll your eyes, and drop your jaws to express the best alveolar click (tsk) you can muster, but how do you really respond to the following:

 - "We're just on different wavelengths."
- "We live on different planes of existence."
- "We don't see eye to eye."
- "You just don't get me."
- "I don't need your approval."
- "I don't need your help."

Yes, some people don't want your help, advice, wisdom, or good intentions. Some people just want to be left alone to do 'their thing'.

Last night, I learned that Amy Winehouse shuffled off her mortal coil. She was a phenomenally talented singer and songwriter that bridged Jazz and Soul Music … and defied our expectations, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. Yes, she was troubled, she told us so ... and her death, though still unexplained as of this writing, is a tragedy. To me, one's death is tragic when you don't see it coming; it's horrific when you do.

Nevertheless, the media, eyes wide shut, has already begun to cliche ad nauseum over her initiation into the '27 Club', her life defining hit song 'Rehab', and her vices to which have already been attributed to her death, even before any facts have been revealed. But hey, that's what sells the news, right? On the CNN website, the marketing suits couldn't wait more than a paragraph into her obituary before inserting an advert to promote an upcoming episode of Dr. Drew titled “How can someone so talented be so self destructive?” Its pathetic. It's profane.

Amy Winehouse was an artist that many things to many people in life... and will continue to be as such in death. I mourn her passing, the loss of her talent, her art and her potential. Of course, there's much to be said about how she lived her life, but it's really a moot point now. So I prefer to remember her for what she left us. And yes, it's true that but for her legacy of music, no one was saved ... but I would argue, that the lives of those who were touched by her music were truly enriched.

Amy, Amy, Amy – you'll be missed for all that was and all that could've been.

PS. Thanks for reading. This is just one of those mornings, I really wish I hadn't sworn off Baileys in my morning coffee. For this post there's no questions, because the obvious 'why' thunders loudly. Here are some videos of what we lost. If you choose to see only what you want to see, then at least close your eyes and listen. Your comments, as always, are welcome.

Suggested Listening:

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