Baggage & Cabbage (stink).

January 27, 2007

My brother led me here.  He sent me a message telling me I was messing around with a crappy thought repository; or maybe it was unworthy of the thoughts I chose to deposit.  I don’t know, don’t care.  But there’s been a migration.  So, here I am.  Here we are.

 Ummm…I thank you for your brief audience.

Rolling Blunder

January 27, 2007

On aspirations, I have nothing to say.  I’m convinced that almost everyone wants a lot of money, but no one wants to work for it.  People go to work and pride themselves on how little they accomplish.  ‘I got paid to do nothing today.’  Long days are filled with nothing.

I’ve seen a few movies.  I’ve taken some pictures, sometimes moving pictures even.  I can direct.  I want to be a Hollywood director.  I’ve read a few books.  I’ve composed several emails, some approaching narrative even.  I can write.  I want to be a Hollywood screenwriter.  I’ve been there, saw that, and remembered not my lack of involvement, for I was a part of it.  Whatever it was, I could swell it, tell it and sell it again.

I’m a go-getter whose main preoccupation is anything but getting or going.  I’ve made a million in my mind before I’ve got one in my pocket.  There’s one thing I can rely on – luck.  The successful are always lucky, for they must’ve done everything I’m doing, but with more fortune.

Enough fooling around.  I may not be successful, but I’ve never known failure.

I get so tired…waiting for someone to discover my talent.  I would really like to know what it is.  Why doesn’t anyone know I’m the greatest whatever ever?  Well, I’ll show you.

Ahem…excuse me, but what would you like to see?


January 27, 2007

It’s alright to dislike your job, but you still have to do it – so do it well!  Otherwise, you’ve not only wasted your time, but probably the time of others who have to pick up the slack for you.  Whatever.  I loathe my job.  I’m sitting here, already late and not in a hurry to move.  I’m storing up energy for when I punch-in, so to speak.  I get a headache, or my back will start cramping up, whenever I am within 3km of the office.  Gives me a reason to be miserable all day long!!  I try not to be miserable, but it’s nearly unavoidable.

I awoke with some degree of clarity this morning.  I think I understand why I loathe my job.  It’s not because I hate the mechanics of my work.  It’s definitely not because I don’t like my co-workers.  I like my desk and my chair.  My computer’s alright.  The coffee is free.  The pay is average, but there’s room for growth.  I can function at work with relative independence.  I can wear whatever clothes I feel like wearing on any given day, ranging from informal business attire to sweats.  What is there to complain about?

Well, for starters, there’s you.  The person who hates their job, who doesn’t excel at work, who spreads their misery wherever they can.  Seriously, if some people spent as much energy on their daily tasks as they did on being miserable – there would be no reason for anyone to be miserable in the first place.  If you’ve ever watched ‘The Bridge on the River Kwai’ you will understand the irony of this statement.  ‘Be happy in your work.’

I think there needs to be more pride in workmanship.  When I go to work, or anywhere for that matter, I set goals, so I can have a sense of accomplishment.  Task done…perfectly.  Good show, jolly good show!  On to the next problem, another solution, another accomplishment.  I’m not that good though.  I’m not always attentive and diligent.  I’m not always coherently conscious.  I don’t always show up for work and I sometimes check out on reality.  It felt good to skip school when I was younger and it feels just as good to skip work or some other equally important function now that I am older.

To be young in spirit.  Going to work is no different than going to school.  Learn, have fun, be with friends.  Oh, but I guess some people had a hard time at school, socially, academically, whatever.  Well, tough shit.  One has to take work serious, but does not always have to be serious.

If it’s any condolence to my employer, I never showed up for school on time either.  But when I got there…it was game over.  There aren’t many people who can play with me for long.

Faces, Names & The Existence of Truth, etc.

January 27, 2007

I added a picture to my profile on some site.  I hope the guy in the picture doesn’t mind me using his likeness in place of my own.  [I know him and when he discovers it, he will be livid…that’s part of the pleasure!]  I’m also hiding behind a name.  Is it wrong for me to want you to know my words and thoughts, but not my self?  Am I much more than my words and thoughts?  I don’t think so, except that my protuberant face and bulbous body keep reminding me otherwise. 

Yeah, my face curves outward.

If I acknowledge a lie or two, does that make everything I’ve ever said unbelievable?  If something is not 100% genuine, does that make it fake?  I would argue there are no such things as truth or purity, just like there was nothing before the Big Bang.  There are only words, thoughts, and the understanding that no one will ever interpret them similarly.  One step beyond, no one will ever understand the word or thought as it was intended to be understood.  The distance between these things is art.  Conflict is creation.

This is not an endorsement of all conflict as being beneficial to creation.  We have to consider conflict wisely.  For instance, killing each other over differences of opinions on inherently unprovable ideas is unwise.  Even more so when you consider every opinion will drown, die of disease, or suffer in some form as our planet warms.  There’s a conflict worth attacking.  But, I don’t want to get into this, otherwise I might succumb to the temptation to retrieve my bullhorn, go outside and make myself look insane as I bleat common sense at full volume.

People would thrill with sarcastic delight at another crazy environmentalist standing on the street corner degrading any potential progress.  Then they’d go and spend $5 on an Ethiopian coffee made from beans for which the Ethiopian coffee farmer was paid a fraction of a penny.  That’s some markup.

Oh, there’s something else I’d argue does not exist – equality. 

While I’m at it…

When I was in school, I took a few political science courses amongst other things, like Tylenol.  So far as I understood democracy was defined as ‘the greatest good for the greatest number of people.’

Of this little note (blog…whatever!), there is one last thing I would argue does not exist – democracy.

I’m in the mood for broad strokes, not specifics.  I wrote I ‘would’ argue, not I ‘will’ argue.


January 27, 2007

I have a headache.  I slept too little, drank too much coffee and smoked enough to choke a corpse.  Whatever else I did today seems to have been sucked into a whirlwind of blurred memories.  What happened to my head?  Too much.  I don’t care. 

I’m thinking about death.  Well, more precisely put, I’m thinking about the life after death.  There’s a lot of options to which one could subscribe.  I get so bored with this shit.  It doesn’t matter if there is existence after life or not.  The truth of it is inherently unknowable.  Therefore, it is a waste of precious life time to think about it.  Yet, here I am, sending a probe into a black hole, hoping the signal won’t vanish as it slips across the event horizon.  One of these days, I’m going to disappear just like that signal.