I can't believe that Barack Hussein Obama is now the President-Elect of the United States of America. He still has 75 days till he's sworn in on January 20, 2009, but come what may, he has created history. He is the first African-American to become president, and he did in fine style, running a campaign that was lofty in its ideals, superb, clean and clinical in its execution, and all-inclusive in its reach. It was the first campaign by anyone running for any office, that I can remember, that I supported and got behind (in my own way, namely through copious amounts of hours logged on CNN), not because the campaigner supported and represented my politics and world view, but......
...and this isn't easy for me to admit......
....because I BELIEVED in it. Him. The message. The hope. The possibility of change, him reaching beyond this election to what he could do in office, with the backing of his party and the MASSIVE groundswell of support that he garnered from all levels of the society. I believed in the whole shebang, swallowed it down hook, line and brightly coloured sinker, and I now wait with bated breath for his presidency to begin.
I saw Jesse Jackson crying on CNN (I keep mentioning that channel, hmm...maybe I spend too much time there)...I can't imagine what seeing this must be like, for him and persons like him, that were alive for, and marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. Who, despite the myriad twists and turns their lives and actions might have taken, fought for civil rights for themselves and their race from second to second, unceasing and unflinching in their belief and support of their principles. It must have been a sweet and painful moment for him, and the millions of others like him, not just in America, but worldwide. Not just black Americans, but anyone who's stood in the breach in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds and overwhelming circumstance, in defiance of what most others just look on and pass by as an unchangeable status quo...it must be a very rewarding moment for them all, but also painful in the enormity of the various emotions that they must be feeling, one and all.
Think about it. America now has a black president, one with the middle name of Hussein. If you had told me that last year or eighteen months ago, that that would be the case, well....I'd have smiled with you while secretly calling the guys in white coats and the padded wagon on their 24 hr emergency line to come and fetch you, and then, that done, would have calmly gone on my way in a manner designed to not upset you, as you were obviously off your rocker.
But, you'd have been prophetic.
Heh, will wonders never cease.
*shakes head in wonderment*
However, all of that aside (and that's a massive aside, btw) that isn't the purpose of this post. With all of the happy happy joy joy feelings now floating around the country and around the world, there is one very large problem that I now have (when do I not, ever), coming out of this election.
Simply put, that crowd......or rather, what they were/are indicative of. You all saw it, the crowd at McCain's concession speech. Rowdy, angry, disrespectful, and most of all, convinced as to Obama being a traitor/Muslim/liar/socialist/black (oops, he really is that, sorry), and whatever else they want to accuse him of. McCain could only just control them for the cameras, as he plodded at a slow run through what must have been the most painful speech of his life (and may it stick in his throat for a long time, the louse), and then quickly and quietly vanished from the public view, to become yesterdays news in so many ways....but the effects of the campaign that he and mizz Sarah Palin ran are not so easily erased. All the fears that they played on, all the anxieties and misplaced rage that they stirred up, all the vitriol and acid that they spouted, robocalled and had pandered to willing, ignorant, misled ears around the country...that does not just vanish over night, with a forced concession speech and a pained smile.
Oh no. That kind of emotion lingers, festers, goes home and oils its rifle, and then begins to look for a nice steeple to inhabit. The level of idiocy that was being spread behind the scenes about this election, like a disease of ignorance (whose major symptom is a certain pigmentation of the neck, I believe, but I could be wrong), spreading from person to person, family to family.....there were sites and noted (and notable) radio personalities that claimed, and presented (to their twisted, malignant brains), insurmountable proof that Barack Obama was the antichrist, and a vote for him was a vote for the apocalypse.
I mean seriously. Come the F*** on.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?!?!?!?
*stops to ponder the unfathomable nature of it all*
I don't know how that kind of thinking works. I don't know how one gets up and decides to use such tactics, I don't know how one then decides to implement those tactics in these modern times.....and then I, most of all, don't know how one hears these things, and, IN THESE MODERN TIMES, believes them. Like......I just can't process it. The levels of desperation and hatred, just raw, blind, ignorant (wow I'm using that word a lot) bad mind (as we say here in Ja, and its usage is so apropos) that had to have been behind it, and the dozens of other 'fringe' (read:grassroots, base or any other term used to refer to that special set of people for whom Sarah Palin is the best thing to happen to politics since Bush, whichever one, it doesn't matter) organizations and movements out there that actively, willingly and knowingly looked at this information, knew what it meant and the ramifications of it (come on, I don't believe that idiots could have implemented this thing, someone with sense had to have been behind this somewhere......where, however, is left in its entirety up to your speculative abilities), and STILL WENT AHEAD AND DID IT......that kind of black-minded bloody-mindedness (probably a wrong use of the phrase...ah well, C'est La Vie)......well, lets just say I don't approve of it, and leave it at that. Not like my opinion matters, to the thousands, hell, millions of Americans that are now sitting at home and at the local bar and in their friends houses and in public places, watching Barack Obama take his place in history, not with an appreciation of the gravity of the moment or of the fact that there is now someone in the white house that wants to do more than mangle the English language on tv and invade other countries and throw the nations young and newly arrived (the citizenship for army service program...democracy at its finest) for oil....but with all of this idiocy and so much more stuck in their heads. On repeat. With the volume maxed.
Leaking out of their ears and surrounding them, like a black and purple aura of poison and decay. Traitor (as is anyone that doesn't recommend shooting America's multitudinous 'enemies' these days). Muslim (and all the negative connotations that THAT brings to these folk, gah). Black (you know they're thinking it). Socialist (..and if this section of the population were a bit more in touch, they might look at so called socialist societies that were named, such as Sweden, and Denmark, and Holland, and see how these places are so VASTLY superior to their own.....but lets not look for too many riding beggars here, eh?), and god knows what else. Oh yeah. Antichrist. That one needs no snarky commentary in an intrusive set of parentheses.
What do you think they're thinking, watching him and his family walk around, wave at the cameras, smile at his daughters and promise one of them a puppy in his acceptance speech? These people, lovers of the constitution, liquor and their extensive rifle collection...(ok, that's not all of them, but it is enough of them for me to generalise the rest of them as being the same way....and if they're in this group, then I don't really see where I have to take special care HOW I classify you, you dumb..).., who now claim that Obama will trample all over the constitution (and what the hell do they think that George W. Bush was doing for the last eight years, spit shining it?), and bring fire, brimstone, a dozen plagues, the apocalypse, a new holocaust (I'm not even going to go INTO that one, uh uh, not this individual) and maybe, oh, I don't know...respectability, grace and, oh, can it be HOPE, INTELLIGENCE and RIGHT MINDEDNESS to the whole process of governing of the greatest (in terms of potential to influence events on a worldwide scale from a single nation standpoint) nation on earth?
What's that you say? Bush was smart enough for you? Well, if you put it like that...step right this way, there's a bridge I'd like to sell you. Speaking of which, who else finds it ridiculous that you can buy islands, both real AND MAN MADE, houses built underwater, trips into space and real estate on the moon....but the saying 'I've got a bridge I want to sell you' is still a worldwide analogy for gullibility and stupidity.......anyway.
So yeah. That's my desire in this post. To express my....deep seated concern regarding the, almost in counterpoint and in abject contrast to the groundswell of love, support and hope for the future that Obama has created in the American people, the just......saturated population of haters and ill-wishers of Obama and his family. We've all seen what one angry American, supported by a system where anything (and I do mean anything) can be garnered for enough money or in support of a like-minded individual, and apathy towards how one uses that anything, can create. I do not think I need to extrapolate on this. American history, both recent and distant, is rife with these individuals (Lincoln and JFK come to mind...and dammit if the news media have not been comparing Obama to JFK for a minute now).
Even beyond that, however, will be the fact that these people will, in blind support of their negative ideals and backward thinking leaders, will, in so many ways, obvious and covert, stand in the way of Obama and all that he and his supporters will try to do. Now, in a time when America needs to be unified, as it has a laundry list from hell of situations to solve and obstacles to overcome, both within the nation the world at large, not the least of which is the contempt it is held in, both as a nation, and as a people, that elected and supported the (previous) leader of that nation. Now, more than ever, Obama's campaign rhetoric needs to be repeated, in quiet conversations and at the tops of voices at outdoor rallies.....'yes we can!'
Not as a nation of people electing a black president (y'all just did that, remember, did you drink so much last night in celebration that you FORGOT why you were celebrating.....if so, shame *wags finger in reproach*) or being governed by one....but as a nation of people needing to move forward together behind an (insulting classification of citizenship deleted)-American leader to begin to repair the economy, the myriad of foreign policy disasters visited on the world by G. W. Bush and Dick 'Darth Vader' Cheney in the past eight years, a government with more power over its people than a dictator would find comfortable (...actually no, he'd be just fine with it), and a prison filled as a result of an occupation of a foreign nation, an occupation based on reasons less insubstantial than wet tissue paper in the face of a category five tornado.
If you get my drift.
So that's my concern at this time. I can't be caught up in the euphoric celebration of Martin Luther King's dream being fulfilled (and if you believe that, here, this rope bridge is going cheap, comes with a gorge and a nice long fall.....), I'd rather think about the next 75 + 1461 days (not thinking about the 2012 ticket as yet, lets get past this mountain first). Its that long till he's sworn in on January 20th and becomes president, and then that next figure is the length of his (first :) ) term as president. Its a very long time to be the one BLACK man at the top of the world. Sittin' on nukes....and a throne made out of blades.
I do not envy you, good sir.
More as it develops.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Best Laid Plans...
So.
Today was to have been my triumphant return to the blogosphere. I had an interview of a certain professor, and his findings regarding american children and sex, which I was going to analyse and critique. I also had a few opinions to raise about the current election race going on in america, and maybe throw in a humorous anecdote at the end.
Instead, I've got a budding headache and eyeache, another underutilised day, and just a general feeling of having not done enough. Its amazing, how when you try to live your life right, that it seems to shrink down to a bunch of tasks and objectives, which do not seem so important in and of themselves, but if you are determined (and I most certainly am), then accomplishing them becomes a major part of your day, as well as a heightened sense of accomplishment when they are done. This, to someone who doesn't achieve very much on a daily basis, is a BIG DEAL.
So I'm not gonna let it get me down. I strive always to resist the pull of human entropy, which itself is constant, until you either learn to deal with it or to ignore it. Its a slow process, little victories and accomplishments each day. Wake up. Get out of bed. Do one useful thing each day, then two, then more. Get out of the house (that hasn't been happening of late), walk around (resist the urge to buy any cancer sticks) and breathe the open air. Just...live one day at a time (I never really understood what that meant before).
Just live, learn to appreciate yourself, what you have and what you can do. Learn about yourself. Take a walk into your mind. Sit in quiet, and listen to what you have to say to yourself. If you are quiet, you can hear your mind telling you what to do (this does not include that subsection of society that hears voices telling them that there are spies in the ice cream; these people need to either receive or go back on their meds, and not listen to themselves too much, if at all), and how to go about fixing the mess you're currently in. Then, when you've learned that much, you can go about gathering the necessary energy to get up and accomplish these goals.
Its not easy. Not by a long shot. There were days when getting out of bed was my major accomplishment for the day. Those are, thank god, FAR behind me at this point. Now, its achieving what's on my little list of things to do each day. The tendency to ship my oars and just float is ever present, and sometimes I'll catch myself just wasting time, and I'll have to get up and get back to what I was doing.
One does not break the programming of years of living overnight.
But breaking it IS possible, and it takes guts, grit, and the willingness to take a lot of healthy criticism from all those around you that really, truly care for you (the ability to recognise which, my friends, is one of THE best skills you can ever acquire in your life, mark my words). It takes starting, stopping, starting again, falling over, getting up, brushing yourself off, maybe a sigh or two, and starting again. After a while, it stops being starting and starts to become continuing, and the periods in between the interruptions get smaller and smaller. That's where I'm headed, and I'm not stopping for nothing. I have too much people (and one beautiful young woman in particular) waiting and hoping for me to realise all I have to offer, and get to work offering it to the world (their words, not mine :) )
Anyway.
I'm tired, and my eyes and head hurts, but I now feel better. One more thing I can say that I did with my day, and one less thing to feel guilty over as I go to my rest this night.
Peace my friends, you will be seeing a lot more of me around these parts in the future. Yeah, yeah, I've said that before, I know....
Anyway.
Walk in the light, think happy thoughts, and for gods sake think before you act. I'll see you around.
Today was to have been my triumphant return to the blogosphere. I had an interview of a certain professor, and his findings regarding american children and sex, which I was going to analyse and critique. I also had a few opinions to raise about the current election race going on in america, and maybe throw in a humorous anecdote at the end.
Instead, I've got a budding headache and eyeache, another underutilised day, and just a general feeling of having not done enough. Its amazing, how when you try to live your life right, that it seems to shrink down to a bunch of tasks and objectives, which do not seem so important in and of themselves, but if you are determined (and I most certainly am), then accomplishing them becomes a major part of your day, as well as a heightened sense of accomplishment when they are done. This, to someone who doesn't achieve very much on a daily basis, is a BIG DEAL.
So I'm not gonna let it get me down. I strive always to resist the pull of human entropy, which itself is constant, until you either learn to deal with it or to ignore it. Its a slow process, little victories and accomplishments each day. Wake up. Get out of bed. Do one useful thing each day, then two, then more. Get out of the house (that hasn't been happening of late), walk around (resist the urge to buy any cancer sticks) and breathe the open air. Just...live one day at a time (I never really understood what that meant before).
Just live, learn to appreciate yourself, what you have and what you can do. Learn about yourself. Take a walk into your mind. Sit in quiet, and listen to what you have to say to yourself. If you are quiet, you can hear your mind telling you what to do (this does not include that subsection of society that hears voices telling them that there are spies in the ice cream; these people need to either receive or go back on their meds, and not listen to themselves too much, if at all), and how to go about fixing the mess you're currently in. Then, when you've learned that much, you can go about gathering the necessary energy to get up and accomplish these goals.
Its not easy. Not by a long shot. There were days when getting out of bed was my major accomplishment for the day. Those are, thank god, FAR behind me at this point. Now, its achieving what's on my little list of things to do each day. The tendency to ship my oars and just float is ever present, and sometimes I'll catch myself just wasting time, and I'll have to get up and get back to what I was doing.
One does not break the programming of years of living overnight.
But breaking it IS possible, and it takes guts, grit, and the willingness to take a lot of healthy criticism from all those around you that really, truly care for you (the ability to recognise which, my friends, is one of THE best skills you can ever acquire in your life, mark my words). It takes starting, stopping, starting again, falling over, getting up, brushing yourself off, maybe a sigh or two, and starting again. After a while, it stops being starting and starts to become continuing, and the periods in between the interruptions get smaller and smaller. That's where I'm headed, and I'm not stopping for nothing. I have too much people (and one beautiful young woman in particular) waiting and hoping for me to realise all I have to offer, and get to work offering it to the world (their words, not mine :) )
Anyway.
I'm tired, and my eyes and head hurts, but I now feel better. One more thing I can say that I did with my day, and one less thing to feel guilty over as I go to my rest this night.
Peace my friends, you will be seeing a lot more of me around these parts in the future. Yeah, yeah, I've said that before, I know....
Anyway.
Walk in the light, think happy thoughts, and for gods sake think before you act. I'll see you around.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
*Blink*
*Blink*
You stand in a field of yellow flowers, all minor suns. In their center, a small ring of blue, like a child's tear, lies nestled. A small wind ruffles their perfect symmetry, a momentary bending of their heads to a higher power, then all isagain still. You look around. All is still, all is silent. All is perfect.
You shade your eyes against the sun and the blue, the yellow below and the impossibility of the situation. A single step would crush dozens of these minor suns, all packed in and around each other. You take that step, and an aroma like sunday mornings in the park, a perfect blue sky and your first kiss fills your nostrils, and you are momentarily lifted. Walking, the aroma is now a constant companion, so much so that have to blink to keep this field of yellow/blue in sight. The sky is a blue wall below which is spread this infinite yellow tablecloth, pure and unblemished. So blue it hurts.You squint.
(How did you get here...how...)
You blink. You are standing in a desert, with sand blowing in your eyes. Your mouth. Your teeth. Your nostrils. You cough and cover your face and ears. Its in your hair. Under your nails. You stumble forward, hacking against the storm. Fall to your knees and try to breathe through the onslaught.
It takes a few seconds before you realise that you're not feeling anything but the wind. The sand passes through you, around you, untouching. You kneel there, not understanding. The wind howls, and you feel its loneliness and despair in your bones. It echoes in the back of your mind, reminding you of disappointments past, and the many more to come. Despair. A constant companion.
(What, where...the hell is going on...?)
You stand, and walk. You discern movement, images, figures in the haze. Frozen. No. They move, but only when you look away, and only in a speed discernable by one familiar.
(Familiar...with what...hold on, what...?)
They're dozens of them around you, and you then realize that its not a storm, but thousands, no, millions of overlapped images of figures, horses, soldiers, people, cars falling off of bridges, people dying, running, crying, falling, standing in shock, fear, curling up in pain, shaking...just the pure horror of human suffering poured out in visual form onto your eyeballs. You stand there in shock yourself...and just watch. It washes over you. Your very heart turns black within your chest, and you shudder with the realisation that this is you, this is what it means to be human. To suffer, live in pain, and then die.
(No....it can't...what...)
Blink.
You're back in the field of blue and yellow, and you fall forward to your knees, choking on the tears you did not know were coming. Your vision blurs, and you cry your heart out there in that beautiful, lonely oasis. You fumble forward, and that scent of cotton candy and soft touches in the hall, holding hands as you walk and dancing under hot lights with the one you desire/love/lust after fills you again, and you begin to laugh through your tears. You feel as if you are going insane. Unable to process emotions of such diametric difference all at once, your body executes the most useful feature it possesses. In the face of an overwhelming situation that it cannot immediately comprehend or process, the human body possesses the ability to turn itself off.
You faint.
When you wake up, you're standing on a beach. The water makes a quiet shh-shhhh as it peaks beneath your feet, then recedes back to the arms of its mother, the ocean. You are barefooted, and the water is warm on your toes. A gentle wind, smelling of salt and sugar cane tickles your nose, and somewhere in the distance you hear the gentle strains of relaxed revelry. You lift your head, and allow the calm and peace of the moment to suffuse your being. You breathe, happy to have woken from that...nightmare. In, out, in, out, the breaths come. Your heart slows (hm, what, no...there was something...no..forget it) as you return to your normal state of calm. You turn to walk back towards (where...wait, where was I going before...wait wait wait) when a voice says;
"But its never that easy, is it? Being human, I mean."
You whirl, disturbing the sand and the scene. Everything shimmers for a second, white white, then settles back to normal colour. Standing a few feet down the beach is a man, nondescript, small, inconsequential. White shirt, white pants, straw hat. Beach bum. Beer in hand, his back to you.
"Its never that easy, being anything in this world."
He looks out from under his hat at you, and you realise...no, it can't be....
Blink.
You wake up in bed, and there is no more sleep for you that night. In the back of your head, you can hear the soft whisper of the waves on the beach, and beneath them...the silent cries of all those trapped in the haze. The sunflowers evade your mind, even as you reach for them in a desperate attempt as SOME kind of solace from this crazy dream. There will be no more sleep for you this night. None at all. You have much to think about, and morning....? It is still far, far away.
You stand in a field of yellow flowers, all minor suns. In their center, a small ring of blue, like a child's tear, lies nestled. A small wind ruffles their perfect symmetry, a momentary bending of their heads to a higher power, then all isagain still. You look around. All is still, all is silent. All is perfect.
You shade your eyes against the sun and the blue, the yellow below and the impossibility of the situation. A single step would crush dozens of these minor suns, all packed in and around each other. You take that step, and an aroma like sunday mornings in the park, a perfect blue sky and your first kiss fills your nostrils, and you are momentarily lifted. Walking, the aroma is now a constant companion, so much so that have to blink to keep this field of yellow/blue in sight. The sky is a blue wall below which is spread this infinite yellow tablecloth, pure and unblemished. So blue it hurts.You squint.
(How did you get here...how...)
You blink. You are standing in a desert, with sand blowing in your eyes. Your mouth. Your teeth. Your nostrils. You cough and cover your face and ears. Its in your hair. Under your nails. You stumble forward, hacking against the storm. Fall to your knees and try to breathe through the onslaught.
It takes a few seconds before you realise that you're not feeling anything but the wind. The sand passes through you, around you, untouching. You kneel there, not understanding. The wind howls, and you feel its loneliness and despair in your bones. It echoes in the back of your mind, reminding you of disappointments past, and the many more to come. Despair. A constant companion.
(What, where...the hell is going on...?)
You stand, and walk. You discern movement, images, figures in the haze. Frozen. No. They move, but only when you look away, and only in a speed discernable by one familiar.
(Familiar...with what...hold on, what...?)
They're dozens of them around you, and you then realize that its not a storm, but thousands, no, millions of overlapped images of figures, horses, soldiers, people, cars falling off of bridges, people dying, running, crying, falling, standing in shock, fear, curling up in pain, shaking...just the pure horror of human suffering poured out in visual form onto your eyeballs. You stand there in shock yourself...and just watch. It washes over you. Your very heart turns black within your chest, and you shudder with the realisation that this is you, this is what it means to be human. To suffer, live in pain, and then die.
(No....it can't...what...)
Blink.
You're back in the field of blue and yellow, and you fall forward to your knees, choking on the tears you did not know were coming. Your vision blurs, and you cry your heart out there in that beautiful, lonely oasis. You fumble forward, and that scent of cotton candy and soft touches in the hall, holding hands as you walk and dancing under hot lights with the one you desire/love/lust after fills you again, and you begin to laugh through your tears. You feel as if you are going insane. Unable to process emotions of such diametric difference all at once, your body executes the most useful feature it possesses. In the face of an overwhelming situation that it cannot immediately comprehend or process, the human body possesses the ability to turn itself off.
You faint.
When you wake up, you're standing on a beach. The water makes a quiet shh-shhhh as it peaks beneath your feet, then recedes back to the arms of its mother, the ocean. You are barefooted, and the water is warm on your toes. A gentle wind, smelling of salt and sugar cane tickles your nose, and somewhere in the distance you hear the gentle strains of relaxed revelry. You lift your head, and allow the calm and peace of the moment to suffuse your being. You breathe, happy to have woken from that...nightmare. In, out, in, out, the breaths come. Your heart slows (hm, what, no...there was something...no..forget it) as you return to your normal state of calm. You turn to walk back towards (where...wait, where was I going before...wait wait wait) when a voice says;
"But its never that easy, is it? Being human, I mean."
You whirl, disturbing the sand and the scene. Everything shimmers for a second, white white, then settles back to normal colour. Standing a few feet down the beach is a man, nondescript, small, inconsequential. White shirt, white pants, straw hat. Beach bum. Beer in hand, his back to you.
"Its never that easy, being anything in this world."
He looks out from under his hat at you, and you realise...no, it can't be....
Blink.
You wake up in bed, and there is no more sleep for you that night. In the back of your head, you can hear the soft whisper of the waves on the beach, and beneath them...the silent cries of all those trapped in the haze. The sunflowers evade your mind, even as you reach for them in a desperate attempt as SOME kind of solace from this crazy dream. There will be no more sleep for you this night. None at all. You have much to think about, and morning....? It is still far, far away.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Tuxedo Mask
*looks up from sweeping*
So today I decide to go online and finally, finally, FINALLY decide on a tuxedo for myself and my groomsmen. Having not chosen one the last time (contrary to what my fiance believes, hm) I decide that enough is enough, I need to go on and just get this done.
Right.
So, I'm on this site, looking around at the various styles, comparing one to another, and looking at the different cuts and whatnot, and it comes to my attention that most of these look awfully similar. I flip back and forth, not daring to blink lest I miss a difference in the cut of the lapel or the length of the jacket or whatnot. If the difference isn't made obvious by the name (a 'shawl lapel' versus a 'notch lapel', and the promisingly titled but oh so disappointing double breasted suit) or a glaring difference, well then, I have to focus my eyes on a point on the tux and flip back and forth to spot a difference. Yet another case of complexity outgrowing necessity, but that's the way it is and has been.
I've discovered that I go for the more traditional cuts and styles (up to a point). Like, I would never, ever see myself in a tux that's not a dark colour, maybe grey being the highest shade I would go. A white tux appalls me to no end, and don't get me started on the other colours (pimpwear, as I call them). Knowing absolutely nothing about the history of the tux, and maybe having worn one maybe once before (my second sister's wedding, go figure) I've come to the conclusion (no doubt based on years of James Bond, fashion magazines and other such trustworthy and upstanding sources) that a tux should be of dark colour, the darker the better.
I've also realized that I dislike cummerbunds to no end.
UGH. Why do you need that band of colour, in what is an awkward place to draw attention to for most men?
*clears throat*
*lays aside broom and walks over to window*
I went to wikipedia just now to look up the history of the tux. Makes sense that something that's giving me this much trouble would be british in origin (and funnily enough, was popularised by an act intended to enable a lord to get it on with another mans wife. So much for its being the symbol of the wedding, and all that crap). Damn brits, first they colonize my country (well, one of the many, but more on that later) and then they give me this headache. Curse you britannia!!!
*breathes*
Right. So. I've settled on a three button something or other, and this other one that looks really cool (can't remember the names right now, I mean come on, have you seen the names of these things???) and might fit me well, if I can just start exercising again, and stay away from the cigs (24 hours and counting, how many more times will I quit?...anyway). I'm really excited, like, I never thought these things would ever look good on me, much less get married, and here I am, picking out my tux for my wedding.
So excited. Can you tell?
Sure you can.
Peace out, I'm done for the day. Bathe, and then to bed. Tomorrow I've got things to do, and then I gotta go to town to see the pastor. More on that later as well.
So today I decide to go online and finally, finally, FINALLY decide on a tuxedo for myself and my groomsmen. Having not chosen one the last time (contrary to what my fiance believes, hm) I decide that enough is enough, I need to go on and just get this done.
Right.
So, I'm on this site, looking around at the various styles, comparing one to another, and looking at the different cuts and whatnot, and it comes to my attention that most of these look awfully similar. I flip back and forth, not daring to blink lest I miss a difference in the cut of the lapel or the length of the jacket or whatnot. If the difference isn't made obvious by the name (a 'shawl lapel' versus a 'notch lapel', and the promisingly titled but oh so disappointing double breasted suit) or a glaring difference, well then, I have to focus my eyes on a point on the tux and flip back and forth to spot a difference. Yet another case of complexity outgrowing necessity, but that's the way it is and has been.
I've discovered that I go for the more traditional cuts and styles (up to a point). Like, I would never, ever see myself in a tux that's not a dark colour, maybe grey being the highest shade I would go. A white tux appalls me to no end, and don't get me started on the other colours (pimpwear, as I call them). Knowing absolutely nothing about the history of the tux, and maybe having worn one maybe once before (my second sister's wedding, go figure) I've come to the conclusion (no doubt based on years of James Bond, fashion magazines and other such trustworthy and upstanding sources) that a tux should be of dark colour, the darker the better.
I've also realized that I dislike cummerbunds to no end.
UGH. Why do you need that band of colour, in what is an awkward place to draw attention to for most men?
*clears throat*
*lays aside broom and walks over to window*
I went to wikipedia just now to look up the history of the tux. Makes sense that something that's giving me this much trouble would be british in origin (and funnily enough, was popularised by an act intended to enable a lord to get it on with another mans wife. So much for its being the symbol of the wedding, and all that crap). Damn brits, first they colonize my country (well, one of the many, but more on that later) and then they give me this headache. Curse you britannia!!!
*breathes*
Right. So. I've settled on a three button something or other, and this other one that looks really cool (can't remember the names right now, I mean come on, have you seen the names of these things???) and might fit me well, if I can just start exercising again, and stay away from the cigs (24 hours and counting, how many more times will I quit?...anyway). I'm really excited, like, I never thought these things would ever look good on me, much less get married, and here I am, picking out my tux for my wedding.
So excited. Can you tell?
Sure you can.
Peace out, I'm done for the day. Bathe, and then to bed. Tomorrow I've got things to do, and then I gotta go to town to see the pastor. More on that later as well.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The return of the King.
*looks around*
*knocks dust off of overturned chair*
*places chair upright, raising a cloud of dust*
*sneezes*
*sits*
Oh-kay. *dusts off pants* Wow, I've really let this place go to ruin. Haven't been here in ages, and I guess you can take the (past) failure of this as an indication of how things have been going in my life recently. Whoo, haven't been here since...the 27th of Oct. last year. Wow. 6 months and change.
*looks around again*
Its not that this isn't a nice place and, its not that I don't like talking to you all. Its just that sometime I feel pressured, and I realise now that that was the entirely wrong approach to be taking. Sure, its cool to be pressured, it motivates us to bigger and better things. However, we should never let ourselves get so pressured that we lose sight of who we are, and why we're doing the things in the first place. If we do that, then...the whole point of the exercise becomes pointless, and we may as well have been at home, reading manga online for all the good any further pursuit of that venture will do us.
That is what happened to me recently.
*breathes for a few minutes, looking around at the mess, covered furniture and layers of cobwebs and dust*
I forgot why it was I was getting married, hell, I forgot why it was that I was in the relationship with my fiance. Its not because we're going to get married, no, the marriage is the end result of us wanting to be together for the rest of our lives, in a manner that will allow us to be unmolested or shunned (shun the unbeliever, my god, charlie the unicorn, youtube is a time waster's paradise, shun) by all and sundry. Also, since we (all, or most of us at least) were young, we've been taught that that is the socially acceptable thing to do, before man and God; when you find the one you love, and want to make babies, grow these babies, let them out into the crazy ant's nest that's the world, and then grow old and crotchety with this person, you marry this person.
Hence you avoid being shunned and sanctioned by society at large.
So, she and I are getting married. However, somewhere along the way I lost sight of that fact, that the marriage came after the desire to grow old together and whatnot, and that clouded my judgment, perspective, whatever-you-want-to-call-it there for a while, and things got messy, both inside and outside of my head.
Whoo. *looks around again*
But I'm back now, and I've managed to (with the help of a few friends, more on that later) get myself back in the game. Granted, I'm not in the same position that I was in before this...run in with reality (and let me tell you, try and avoid running into reality, its an unforgiving bitch), but where I am, I can make it work, with focus and determination.
And all those other things that they say one needs to have to be successful, but whatever. I'm simply gonna get up everyday and do it to it, that's all. No big philosophy, just a state of mind.
*wipes hands on pants, and rises, stirring up yet more dust*
So, I'm back, as they say, and you'll be seeing a whole lot more of me around here than you did before. I know now that I have no obligation to post here whatsoever, which has, as these things are wont to do, made it that much easier for me to come here and post my thoughts, feelings, musings, brain hiccups, whatever. There's a lot of work to be done with the place, but...its my goddamn place, and the onus is on me to fix it so...lets just get it done.
Right. *looks around* Now, just where the hell do I start....?
P. S. Scouting for Girls is a lovely little indie-pop band. I don't remember exactly how I heard of them (more than likely from the fiance), but I've since acquired their album, and I must say its been holding its own on my playlist for a bit now. Songs like 'Elvis ain't dead' and 'James Bond' illustrates their uniquely british sense of humor, even when dealing with heartbreak and issues of identity (...or at least, I assume that they are...). Also, 'I need a Holiday' is the british look at the grind, and guess what, they hate it as much as we do, if not more so. Topping it all off is their oh so appealing british accent, and youthful earnestness pouring out of each effort (along with a lighthearted but talented instrumentation on every track), and you've got another surefire summer hit reel here folks. Go check it out.
Charlie the Unicorn. Charlie, the goddamned Unicorn. What, the mother****? No, I mean, come on, if I didn't know that it existed before, I've surely just encountered abstract comedy. Sketch comedy, no, this has moved beyond that, to test the edges of what can logically be called a plot and humor. Stop motion unicorns with squeaky voices going on random quests, meeting stranger and stranger individuals, in an ever increasing comedy maelstrom that comes to its inevitable climax with charlie (the third unicorn, if you weren't following) getting shafted in some unspeakable way. Arguably the strangest thing I've seen online in recent memory. But with all that said, then, why do I find it so goddamned hilarious (shun the unbeliever, shun)? Maybe its the voices of the two other unicorns...yeah, that has to be it, the voices make me break out into peals of laughter in public, earning me dark looks from the more upstanding members of our society, those that I've now started referring to as (dear god) unbelievers. I need help. Charlie needs to just wait for those two with an uzi and some c-4, and wipe them out before they can get their mouths open, that's his only chance of a night of peace. As for you...whether or not you go and check out Charlie the Unicorn on youtube is up to you. But remember, you have been warned. Whether or not I have done so adequately, however, well...that remains to be seen, no doesn't it.
Peace.
*knocks dust off of overturned chair*
*places chair upright, raising a cloud of dust*
*sneezes*
*sits*
Oh-kay. *dusts off pants* Wow, I've really let this place go to ruin. Haven't been here in ages, and I guess you can take the (past) failure of this as an indication of how things have been going in my life recently. Whoo, haven't been here since...the 27th of Oct. last year. Wow. 6 months and change.
*looks around again*
Its not that this isn't a nice place and, its not that I don't like talking to you all. Its just that sometime I feel pressured, and I realise now that that was the entirely wrong approach to be taking. Sure, its cool to be pressured, it motivates us to bigger and better things. However, we should never let ourselves get so pressured that we lose sight of who we are, and why we're doing the things in the first place. If we do that, then...the whole point of the exercise becomes pointless, and we may as well have been at home, reading manga online for all the good any further pursuit of that venture will do us.
That is what happened to me recently.
*breathes for a few minutes, looking around at the mess, covered furniture and layers of cobwebs and dust*
I forgot why it was I was getting married, hell, I forgot why it was that I was in the relationship with my fiance. Its not because we're going to get married, no, the marriage is the end result of us wanting to be together for the rest of our lives, in a manner that will allow us to be unmolested or shunned (shun the unbeliever, my god, charlie the unicorn, youtube is a time waster's paradise, shun) by all and sundry. Also, since we (all, or most of us at least) were young, we've been taught that that is the socially acceptable thing to do, before man and God; when you find the one you love, and want to make babies, grow these babies, let them out into the crazy ant's nest that's the world, and then grow old and crotchety with this person, you marry this person.
Hence you avoid being shunned and sanctioned by society at large.
So, she and I are getting married. However, somewhere along the way I lost sight of that fact, that the marriage came after the desire to grow old together and whatnot, and that clouded my judgment, perspective, whatever-you-want-to-call-it there for a while, and things got messy, both inside and outside of my head.
Whoo. *looks around again*
But I'm back now, and I've managed to (with the help of a few friends, more on that later) get myself back in the game. Granted, I'm not in the same position that I was in before this...run in with reality (and let me tell you, try and avoid running into reality, its an unforgiving bitch), but where I am, I can make it work, with focus and determination.
And all those other things that they say one needs to have to be successful, but whatever. I'm simply gonna get up everyday and do it to it, that's all. No big philosophy, just a state of mind.
*wipes hands on pants, and rises, stirring up yet more dust*
So, I'm back, as they say, and you'll be seeing a whole lot more of me around here than you did before. I know now that I have no obligation to post here whatsoever, which has, as these things are wont to do, made it that much easier for me to come here and post my thoughts, feelings, musings, brain hiccups, whatever. There's a lot of work to be done with the place, but...its my goddamn place, and the onus is on me to fix it so...lets just get it done.
Right. *looks around* Now, just where the hell do I start....?
P. S. Scouting for Girls is a lovely little indie-pop band. I don't remember exactly how I heard of them (more than likely from the fiance), but I've since acquired their album, and I must say its been holding its own on my playlist for a bit now. Songs like 'Elvis ain't dead' and 'James Bond' illustrates their uniquely british sense of humor, even when dealing with heartbreak and issues of identity (...or at least, I assume that they are...). Also, 'I need a Holiday' is the british look at the grind, and guess what, they hate it as much as we do, if not more so. Topping it all off is their oh so appealing british accent, and youthful earnestness pouring out of each effort (along with a lighthearted but talented instrumentation on every track), and you've got another surefire summer hit reel here folks. Go check it out.
Charlie the Unicorn. Charlie, the goddamned Unicorn. What, the mother****? No, I mean, come on, if I didn't know that it existed before, I've surely just encountered abstract comedy. Sketch comedy, no, this has moved beyond that, to test the edges of what can logically be called a plot and humor. Stop motion unicorns with squeaky voices going on random quests, meeting stranger and stranger individuals, in an ever increasing comedy maelstrom that comes to its inevitable climax with charlie (the third unicorn, if you weren't following) getting shafted in some unspeakable way. Arguably the strangest thing I've seen online in recent memory. But with all that said, then, why do I find it so goddamned hilarious (shun the unbeliever, shun)? Maybe its the voices of the two other unicorns...yeah, that has to be it, the voices make me break out into peals of laughter in public, earning me dark looks from the more upstanding members of our society, those that I've now started referring to as (dear god) unbelievers. I need help. Charlie needs to just wait for those two with an uzi and some c-4, and wipe them out before they can get their mouths open, that's his only chance of a night of peace. As for you...whether or not you go and check out Charlie the Unicorn on youtube is up to you. But remember, you have been warned. Whether or not I have done so adequately, however, well...that remains to be seen, no doesn't it.
Peace.
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