So, I got mugged last night.

Fucking Fuck ‘n Fuck. Shit, Shit, Shit. On my own fucking street. I keep replaying it over and over in my head. I should have held on to my purse longer, maybe I’d still have it, I should have let go sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have the bruises and scrapes. I’ve concluded that these “shoulds” are my way of pretending I had power in the situation. I think the idea that I was a failure in the context of a crazy situation is much better for my psyche than feeling as if I had no control at all. What I take from the experience: failure is better than powerlessness.

An Attack on the Socratic Method

Just what our country needs, students that aren't expected to answer questions about their thoughts. Perfect.

Dali'

Went to see some of Dali’s work this weekend with Kevin, Poppy, Feanor and SK, thanks largely to AM’s willingness to watch Bubber Boo. She rocks.

I found it interesting and recommend it if you have a few hours to kill and the $23 cost of a ticket. Gadzooks, dems some long dollars! I do, however, recommend it with a caveat which is this; only go if you are willing to view served torsos of women, monsters in excruciating pain and whimsical household items such as a couch mirrored after Doris Day’s lips and a crab telephone. If you’re not down with such things, don’t go. Poppy wasn’t down and raced through the exhibit like a Girl on Fire, Darryl’s favorite Thai dish, but I digress.

My general thoughts are thus, Dali’ was an amazing talent. His early work shows a kind thoughtfulness for his subjects and a quiet willingness to let them possess his work. Sadly, those works are few. Dali’ graduated from these pieces toward a more withdrawn approach to art…one where, in my opinion, his subject became his head; his thoughts, his theories, his expectations, and his sexuality.

Sadly, Dali’s head was not nearly as interesting as his earlier subjects. And this is not a universal point. It is Dali’s head, in particular, that I find uninteresting-not internal subject matter, per se. I dug his willingness to visit Freudian psychoanalysis in his work, though I make no secret of my opinion of that crap. I even appreciated his desire to depict physical theories of matter in his paintings—though these attempts failed remarkably.

I guess the main thing is that the exhibit tasted fake. It felt like he was trying to “explain” his thoughts, when his thoughts were not fully formed, or not formed to the degree needed for any coherent communication to come across in his paintings. One of my professors once said, “Ten inches of mudding water is still just a mud puddle.” It’s a shame really. I feel like Dali’, had he studied science and psychology in a structured way, could have really had something meaningful to say in his art. And that gets to it. Many artists study art, as art, leaving other subject matter to others. Unfortunately, art is nothing if not communication…an expressing of culture, science, knowledge, understanding, feeling…Dali’ had feeling, but little else.

Un-F'ing Believable!

Jerk off*




*Thanks to TGWMSU who is always first to let me know of stuff that makes me want to stick a stick in my eye.

A Good Day...

...for Little Brother.

Ummmmm....Yeah....

....about that sexual misconduct...stop it.

You've Gotta Try This

Montage-a-Google

I montaged Truth, Pink, Lies, Wonder, Delight, Wealth and Poverty. My favorite was Lies. Darn cool!

A Fine Mess

There is nothing I can say about the Terri Schiavo idiocy that I don’t believe has already been said. A smart person would just shake her head and walk away from the mess because, truth be told, it’s shameful and awful and unfair and wrong what the courts and congress are doing to this poor woman’s husband.

But what about the question at hand? What about proxy consent is so darn confusing, and so easy to set aside? And why can’t we get a handle on what we really want for ourselves and our loved ones?

This is what I think the dealio is: “Proxy consent” is “supposed to be” consent that is given FOR someone because they can’t give it for themselves AND (and this is a big AND), that consent SHOULD BE the consent that one would give for themselves were they able. Soooo, if KMR, as my mom, insists that SK is wrong about what I would want for myself, KMR can drag SK to court and do all that she wishes to ruin any semblance of respect for SK and my union and lives together. AND (again, a big AND) THAT’S what I think is the crux of the problem. Why should my wishes, post my ability to wish, be so darn important?

So, the real question becomes whether, when granting someone the right to advocate on our behalf, we really should be granting the right to make decisions they see fit. Not so much basing their decisions on what I would want, but what they want because, and this is always a logical possibility, the moment before I had my accident or whatever, I may have changed my mind on the topic and what about that??? What about that???? Nothing, if we allow the proxy to make decisions without guessing my theoretical and always unknowable desires. That’s my point. When I cease to have desires, get this, I CEASE TO HAVE DESIRES. What I “would have” wanted for myself makes absolutely NO LOGICAL SENSE. The reason we insist on appealing to it is because we are fearful idiots that refuse to take the lives of our loved-ones on as our responsibility. Now know that when I say “our responsibility” I mean the responsibility of the one that I gave that to. In my case, SK since I married the old boy. Once I give him that responsibility, my decision-making process is over. Further, since it is up to him, the still rational thinker to make up his mind, based on his mind, KRM no longer has the power to second-guess him. After all, only he can know his mind.

Okay, and now to what we want for ourselves and our loved ones in regards to a death that needs help. It seems that we have decided that “letting die” is somehow less participatory and less “wrong” than “helping die.” I contend here that this is a difference that makes no difference but for the weak of character and heart. If you can stomach a “letting die” situation, you should see the humanity in “helping die” and see that the latter is more gentle and kind.

Stupid mess.

Bubber's First Birthday!

A complete success! Early morning wake-up, warm bath, cheerios and applejuice and a nap. Out the door and a fine afternoon at the Please Touch Museum. Then the always fun Adams' and Uncle Kevin came by for pizza, yummy cake homemade by mom!!!*, and ice cream. Then gift opening and early to bed. Couldn't beat it with a stick!!



*Okay, not made by mom but mom made sure it got made by the best cake baker around-kds!

The Other

This week is going noticeably better than last, even though I’m getting slammed with criticism at work. For some reason, I’m totally down with it…being a duck, as my mom would say….letting it just roll off of my back. I think it’s because I discovered something about people.--specifically sales people. They are an entirely different breed of person. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all, if we didn’t have sales people to sell our products, most of us other types wouldn’t have jobs.

Thing is, though, they are a bunch of freaks. I mean that in the most endearing way possible. They are complete and utter weirdoes in my estimation. Their approach to nearly every human interaction baffles me. The competitive natures bleed across everything they touch. Their hierarchical fruitcakiness is astounding. They are diabolical.

And then they smile at you and you come to realize that their aggression and complaints and general malfeasance isn’t about you at all. In fact, while they are smiling at you, they are looking past you, toward their next conquest and, by extension, the berating, back-stabbing, whining, and all around judgmentalness isn’t about you either. It’s about them. And so, all you can take from it is what it is…they are people completely other than you in a way that will keep you in separate pools of reality for all of time. --That the respect for discourse that I share with the vast majority of the populous is simply not shared by them.--That communication ceases to be about give and take and opportunities to learn, but becomes an ordering of goals and a means toward an end of self-satisfaction. And that’s mostly cool with me. Why should they be like me anyway?

Nutty, nutty fruitloops.

Adverbs On My Mind

I'm not going to claim that I have the grasp of the English language of, say, Feanor (see Thursday, March 10th, 10:58). But I will say that I spend a large percentage of my working hours managing the language. It is with this level of vested interest that I assert the rightful necessity of adjoining "LY" to the root of adverbs. I further assert that with the advent of LY-dropping, came a devolution of language.

It has been argued, though not convincingLY, that LY-dropping is, in fact, an evolution of language. An emanation, if you will, of an organic progressing. This would be crap. Rather, tis an effect of the laziness of the speaker in the context of a system quickLY crumbling. The result of which ultimately both assails and accosts my ears.

Another Image for the Book Club Gals...

Thanks AM, for reminding me!

For the Book Club Gals

Waaaaaaah!!

Cry me a river.

Makes me want to spit like a camel!

Couple-la Things--Okay, A Few Things

Jimmy Carter is a good person.

The offering of chocolate from a friend creates a good moment in time.

Reading is good for more than just yourself.

Rest is good for your mind.

Doing laps with my dad is good for my health (hehe).

Asking Bubber, "You wanna dance???", when he's questioning my questionable authority is good for creating a moment of reverie.

I like to think of some good things before sinking into the dire state that is the state of my mind. Those things that contribute to that aforementioned state:

Hierarchy -I appreciate the systemic need and, well, desireable results achieved through established hierarchy, it's the "micro" analysis that proves disconcerting--how I find a place in it, how I justify that place and how I negotiate fairness in the context of inequities of power.

Greed -Again, not so much on a macro level, though I could go on and on about the economy of human capital in a system that deems humans capital. Blech. Moreso, how can I balance the real need for economic security in my later years (and by security I mean comfort and by comfort, do I mean greed?) with the generosity that I must achieve in order to sleep at night? There is a real conflict there.

Purpose -This is early twenties stuff, but sometimes I'm just not sure what the hell I'm trying to do. Maybe I should go find myself. Ha! I kill me!

Well, I leave that here because laughing at the self-indulgent mental dance that I often have is well, good for me.

Oh, and can somone...

...read this and tell me what it says? I don't have the time for such luxuries. Book club is this weekend!

I Claim To Know Nothing Of This Man...

...but every time I hear his name spoken, I could swear it was pronounced "jerk-off."