So my fledgling relationship just crashed and burned in a truly cold and clinical way - as per my usual intellectually sociopathic realistic approach to life. I am at the moment hollow. Don't know how to take it really. But I wanted to commit my thoughts on WHY it ended because I think it ended correctly, as much as I hate that it's over. Personally wise we were a good match. We understand one another's humour, and got the little in-jokes. Life was good.
And then real-world issues began to creep in. And these issues were of no one's making. Merely facts of life. I have come to realize that at least 80% of my time is spend on another planet. Whether it's on a starship, slaying dragons, or fighting my friends on the Deathstar I am a Grade A nerd/geek-a-saurus. If you can't handle hearing about how cool the event was of seeing Praxis already exploded in the latest Star Trek film, then you don't begin to measure up to my level of geekness. If your idea of a good card-game is 52 cards of 4 suites, then you're in the beginners box at a 'low level' card game that I play. My grandmother used to say I should learn bridge. It was a real game. I did. It isn't. It's slow, boring, and not really that difficult. I was politely told at the bridge club by someone who'd been playing bridge for 5 decades, that she'd never come across someone who played bridge so aggressively. Ha! She'd never been attached an an elvish weenie deck on a Tuesday!
Anyway, my friends - whom I love - are all geeks/nerds or a combination there of. I am happy to say that the majority of people who allow me into their lives are all total loons, and not a single one of them is close to normal. But this world that I live in, for all it's neurotic fantasy, is a very difficult one to break into. In fact, unless you've been at it since the Return of the Jedi, you're not likely to get it.
Now the flip side of the chaos that is my existence is that 'normal' human social life. Get together, talk shit, watch a movie, have a social braai, drink, talk more shit, maybe go clubbing, dance, talk shit, drink, go home, and call it an awesome time. I have one question for them: Who won and did he take a head as a trophy? The answer invariably is no - don't be silly. But this is a world that many people crave, and the majority seem to live in.
So when the boyfriend and I began to explore one another socially (and yes I mean that plutonically you sick puppies) our worlds collided. Visiting art galleries, food markets, and being social with friends. Which whilst diverting in their novelty contained no threat of simulated violence, not an iota of Ork cooking, and the only Romulan I saw the entire time was a transvestite buying stupid chairs. So when boyfriend was introduced to my group, he was immediately thrown into the position of being King Kong and having to take over Tokyo. This is considered beginners fare in my world.
Needless to say both of us were demanding repeats of those nights... or not so much. So I ended the relationship but asked for the friendship to continue. Was this just me looking for an 'easy' out? Not at all. I really like the guy, and really enjoyed our social time together (The sex was good too but being downgraded from boyfriend to fuck buddy is somehow worse than boyfriend to just friend isn't it?). I enjoyed chilling and talking shit about our worlds and our lives and our jobs. But I cannot and could not see how in a relationship it could possibly work. The Geek and the Cool may be friends but never raise a family.
And this idea stems from my reasoning that my boyfriend, my partner, my life partner, should be my Best Friend as well. Am I so shallow that I cannot see anyone who isn't on the same geek level as not Best Friend material? I have had many days to sit in bed after my surgery and ponder why I need my best friend to have similar interests to me. The simple reason is I don't really find people who do not share my interests... interesting. Diverting, charming, quaint, and distracting may be words I use, but those do not describe a best friend.
I want an equal. I want a titan from the geek world. If this is too much to ask, then so be, I shall be single all my days and die alone... well not alone because I want my death to be turned into a reality TV show, but that's not the point. Why should I settle for a compromise of interests. And don't give me the lecture on 'finding hobbies you can both grow and learn in'. Fuck that shit, I have fifty hobbies already, and I don't do hobbing halfheartedly. I'm all in or all out. You know me. Besides I already have a hobby in the majority of the sci-fi and fantasy markets, I don't see what's left...
Anyway I wanted to list a few dating rules that I will now be following to the letter:
Date 1 - Informal meeting. Questions to be asked - General geek knowledge. (and wanna go back to my place... hur hur hur)
Date 2 - Informal meeting. Questions to be asked - Specific geek knowledge.
Date 3 - Meeting. Meyers-Briggs test and 5 love languages test to be completed and returned next day.
Date 4 - Meeting. Results returned and compared. Specific geek knowledge tested for spot learning
Date 5 - Meeting. Boardgames and gaming with social group.
Date 6 - Meeting of his friends. If these are not socially awkward individuals with unique hair styles and approaches to clothing use, terminate meetings immediately.
Date 7 - If everything has gone according to plan, all tests passed, then marriage.
I don't think these are bad rules. We did a similar thing in high-school and it worked wonderfully. Admittedly it was designed to keep people OUT of our group, but it worked. All I know is that life continues, and the questions are:
1 - What do you want out of a relationship?
2 - What do you NEED out of a relationship?
3 - What do you want out of life?
Now as the difference of Want and Need - I want a boyfriend who is a sci-fi geek genius. I need a boyfriend who will sometimes tell me no, who will curb my spending, and who will bring me down to earth from time to time. But maybe that's also a want, and what I need I won't know until I die and can read the script plan of my life.
The point is for thems that are in a relationship I hope your partner is your bestest friend, and thems that isn't, it occurs to me that my simple 7 step guide or should I say guyde? might help make life decidedly easier.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Happiness
So I am currently on cloud nine. Life is awesome people. I have been very intent on leaving the country for some time and battle plans were in the process of being drawn up. The realities of South Africa were dark. Politics, stupidity, and the human fuck-up factor were rated very, very high. But then I learned that I would be debt free in July. Like 100%. I will own a car. I will have lots of cash at the end of each month to build into something. If I leave and head to another country what would I gain? I would be full of debt again. In a strange place, and without the support of my wonderful friends, and albeit distant family. I would be alone. Would the opportunities be better? Perhaps. I'd find a job where I could flourish and learn and grow.
But then I thought - I have a job where I am the top creative. Everyone asks me what I think. I am beholden to my bosses who are in a very real sense very kind to me. And indulge me but give me limits. I am free to explore ideas outside the normal realm of any other job I've ever had. I am financially free. I am surrounded by the most awesome people. My friends put up with my oddism's like champions, and at times encourage me!
I have a great place to live, great people to share my space with, a supportive and not too intrusive job that I love doing, and in all fairness a great country to live in. Why the fuck would I want to leave? So really this is just a post to say - hey everyone one of you! I love you all, thank you all, and I hope that you too are in a place of happiness!
And yes, this blog is subject to instant change if I hear another word about municipalities not making audits, eskom, SAA, JZ, or - AHHH FUCK. Thank you. Thank you very much. That's it. I'm leaving. North Korea, here I come.
But then I thought - I have a job where I am the top creative. Everyone asks me what I think. I am beholden to my bosses who are in a very real sense very kind to me. And indulge me but give me limits. I am free to explore ideas outside the normal realm of any other job I've ever had. I am financially free. I am surrounded by the most awesome people. My friends put up with my oddism's like champions, and at times encourage me!
I have a great place to live, great people to share my space with, a supportive and not too intrusive job that I love doing, and in all fairness a great country to live in. Why the fuck would I want to leave? So really this is just a post to say - hey everyone one of you! I love you all, thank you all, and I hope that you too are in a place of happiness!
And yes, this blog is subject to instant change if I hear another word about municipalities not making audits, eskom, SAA, JZ, or - AHHH FUCK. Thank you. Thank you very much. That's it. I'm leaving. North Korea, here I come.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
2 Weeks in and still thinking...
Well it's been two weeks since I started the 'Don't Think, Just Act' campaign inside my brain. It's rather interesting when applied to work as well as to self. In two weeks if I have spent 4 hours total playing computer games it is a lot. On the other hand I have spent 11 hours in a gym. I have also been far more productive than ever before.
I find it interesting that as long as I don't think about going to gym (plus the boredom, the pain, the lingering aches) I can go easily. And once at gym there are certain machines that I hate. I literally feel that I am not gaining anything from them at all. I avoid them. I do the machines that make me feel like I am working. Rowing for example is my new favorite toy.
I discovered my love of Squash through a friend, and although I still rate it as an awesome way to work through tension, frustration, and to get the heart rate up, Rowing has - for me - tangible feedback. The rowing machines are in front of the pool (at the gym where I work) and if I close my eyes I can feel the splashes of water, smell the water, and because of the machine almost feel my little boat skimming over the water. It's almost surreal. At the moment I can row 2 kilometers in just under 10 minutes. I did 3 kilometers in 14:40 the other day so I am doing something right.
I have also noticed that although the old Ballenden (my grandmothers genetic pool) genes run strong and my stubborn streak rears it's head, I'm far more open to other peoples ideas. I doubt anyone who knows me will agree, but those who know me very well will notice.
I saw, and was encouraged by the number of other people who have taken up gyming or at least a healthier existence at the same time as me. Whether this is due to the blog or the facebook or a NY's resolution I don't know but I would be interested to hear how it is going on their side. What their motivation is.
Mine is bizarrely strong. Not because the weight is literally falling off but because I can do it. It's not impossible. I think the really tough times are approaching though as for 2 or 3 or maybe 4 weeks the brain can be quick strong, but the equal impulse of strength can also cause the house of cards to collapse very quickly. But being aware of this neurological weakness I am prepared... I hope.
A friend of mine commented that Free Will is an illusion. I agree - to a degree. Whilst humans cannot willingly choose certain things under normal circumstances, the illusion that a choice exists is very important. It is what drives us. Without it, chaos and anarchy would surely follow. And so - whilst I am healthy and of sound mind, I can believe that my invented freewill can override my natural propensity for sloth.
And speaking of sloth, I don't think I can name many friends who are 'slothful'. Good on you all! And uncharacteristically perhaps I am not going to end with a challenge or a question but simply: A meaningful and heartfelt thank you to all my friends. My Jozi friends leapt with open arms at my healthy approach, and my Durban friends have been and always were supportive of any health choices I made. And of course my Howick buddies I love you guys.
Have a great Sunday - now get out there and be active!
I find it interesting that as long as I don't think about going to gym (plus the boredom, the pain, the lingering aches) I can go easily. And once at gym there are certain machines that I hate. I literally feel that I am not gaining anything from them at all. I avoid them. I do the machines that make me feel like I am working. Rowing for example is my new favorite toy.
I discovered my love of Squash through a friend, and although I still rate it as an awesome way to work through tension, frustration, and to get the heart rate up, Rowing has - for me - tangible feedback. The rowing machines are in front of the pool (at the gym where I work) and if I close my eyes I can feel the splashes of water, smell the water, and because of the machine almost feel my little boat skimming over the water. It's almost surreal. At the moment I can row 2 kilometers in just under 10 minutes. I did 3 kilometers in 14:40 the other day so I am doing something right.
I have also noticed that although the old Ballenden (my grandmothers genetic pool) genes run strong and my stubborn streak rears it's head, I'm far more open to other peoples ideas. I doubt anyone who knows me will agree, but those who know me very well will notice.
I saw, and was encouraged by the number of other people who have taken up gyming or at least a healthier existence at the same time as me. Whether this is due to the blog or the facebook or a NY's resolution I don't know but I would be interested to hear how it is going on their side. What their motivation is.
Mine is bizarrely strong. Not because the weight is literally falling off but because I can do it. It's not impossible. I think the really tough times are approaching though as for 2 or 3 or maybe 4 weeks the brain can be quick strong, but the equal impulse of strength can also cause the house of cards to collapse very quickly. But being aware of this neurological weakness I am prepared... I hope.
A friend of mine commented that Free Will is an illusion. I agree - to a degree. Whilst humans cannot willingly choose certain things under normal circumstances, the illusion that a choice exists is very important. It is what drives us. Without it, chaos and anarchy would surely follow. And so - whilst I am healthy and of sound mind, I can believe that my invented freewill can override my natural propensity for sloth.
And speaking of sloth, I don't think I can name many friends who are 'slothful'. Good on you all! And uncharacteristically perhaps I am not going to end with a challenge or a question but simply: A meaningful and heartfelt thank you to all my friends. My Jozi friends leapt with open arms at my healthy approach, and my Durban friends have been and always were supportive of any health choices I made. And of course my Howick buddies I love you guys.
Have a great Sunday - now get out there and be active!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Stop thinking...
It has taken me almost 5 years of blog writing to get the point of this blog. And I think I now finally have it. It's thanks to friends being persistent about one thing: I think too much. One of my best friends has been saying it for a decade. I know and love those of you who are thinking: Wait - he thinks? Really? Would never have guessed. Well yes. Ha ha.
Now stopping thinking isn't obviously an answer, as humans we have to think. We have to make plans. And we have to have exit strategies. We also need to understand the world around and so we need to observe and interpret. Good. What we don't need to do though is talk to ourselves about thoughts that are neither constructive nor useful. Huh? What I am talking about is something I've been talking about for a long long time, and have occasionally hinted at here and there. But I've never put it together. Like the man who invented microwaves but never built a microwave oven, I've had the idea called the Dancing Men and the Circle Theory since I was in my early 20's.
Quickly - the dancing men are thoughts you have that distract you from your original idea. "I really need to focus - but tomorrow. Today I can relax, there is plenty of time." That's a good example of a dancing man. They don't say no, they just delay and put off. The Circle theory is a dark place and all of us have been there - it's the cyclic logic of I should, but I can't because then this will happen, and then that will happen, and then I will lose that... it's not worth it. You talk yourself around in circles on a big decision (or a small one) and never end up doing it.
OK so now what? I have had these ideas for years. The solution of course is to listen to the dancing men, look at the circle, and then decide if their excuses and objections are real. If they are not, if they're mere projections of future or other totally non-determinable actions on behalf of another human being, then they should be ignored. At least that was the old idea. Well I think it's still true. But that doesn't mean there is a solution...merely a resolution.
In order to really achieve something one not only has to overcome ones inner thoughts, one has to continue to overcome those thoughts as time goes by. And base line - one has to act. To actually do something. And continue to do it. Ignoring all the thoughts that fly through the head. In other words, go back to the old saying of: Just get on with it.
I am going back to gym. Stop laughing, or grinning with that 'all knowing smile'. Several of my friends have asked me - but what's different from the multitude of times you have tried before? My intent. Instead of going because I want to be healthy, or because I want to look like a greek god... and not Dionysus as I presently do... Those are empty desires. I don't really care about my health insofar as as long as I am breathing today I am good. And I don't need to look like any other god except Dionysus as I get action all the time... So those wonderful little thoughts and dancing men and circle theories can play havoc on my hyperactive mind.
My aim this time is to prove that I am the master of my own thoughts. I am impulsive. You all know that. I do things on the spur, buy things, engage in things - that I'm very fond of. Others I am sluggish and slow. Why? Because my mind is free to act as it so chooses, using my excitable emotions as a justification. There is very little Guy thought of this and then acted accordingly and with self control. It's mainly - Shiny! Must have or I die. Isn't that incredibly weak?
But it is more than just impulse control. It is also anti-impulse control. What is the opposite of impulse? Planned? Except in this case it isn't planned either. It's the ability to know what should be done, but not do it because it's easier not to. Lethargy. Not acting because it's easier to not act is now my nemesis. How dare my brain center around the concept of not acting is better than acting? I can see the evolutionary survival tactic - it motivates one to find easier ways of adapting (less energy expenditure). But as a human being with the capacity to realize that I have this natural trait to tend towards inactivity if I can I must therefore rebel against it!
So 2013 is all about proving that I am stronger than my genes. Mentally I shall not accept myself until I am the master of my thoughts. But how then do I avoid a dancing man syndrome that I know I suffer from: Out-thinking the problem and so forgetting about the problem and not solving it? By finally following the advice of my dear dear friends: I will stop thinking. About the little evolutionary things -
This is my new not-think default chain of thought:
It is easier to sit at home and play mindless PC games than do something active. True.
The gains in a PC game are minor problem solving logic development. True.
PC Games are a form of escapism which is essential from time to time. True.
Doing something active is beneficial to thought process, health, physique. True.
There are no physical reasons why spending time being active is dangerous. True
There is no reason to spend so much time behind a PC. True
There is no reason to not be active. True.
One can do both, just less of one and more of the other. True
Being active is boring. True.
1 hour of boredom a day is not worth a heart attack, stroke, or being out of breath. True
Being bored is an inability to entertains one own self. True
I should be capable of entertaining myself for a single hour. True
Everything here is true. There is not a single solitary reason that is false. Except:
I'm so buggered after that day of work I just want to go home and unwind and not do anything active. Why? You just said being active is boring, being bored is a great way to unwind isn't it?
I'm so tired I just want to sit and not do anything. Playing a PC game is doing something, watching TV is doing something. If you're mentally tired then being Physically active is better for you then sitting not being active.
I am physically tired. For what reason? Sitting in one spot all day? Get out there and shake it out. Or is it from being active and running around, being active? Yay! Goal achieved. Take a break - go for a swim.
No there is no reason I can come up with apart from weak-mindedness as to why one shouldn't go to gym and be active. Anything less is literally me failing in my ability to call myself an intelligent human. Please note that this does exclude things like addictions, psychological issues and trauma's etc. Those are different and should be handled with care. This is purely looking for excuses to not be active. Looking for thoughts that are negative, and totally unfounded.
So I have two missions for 2013. My new motto is By Will Alone. By will alone I shall start to think about things worth thinking about, and to stop thinking about things that must get done and just fucking do them. I am in charge of my own damned mind if nothing else. It will answer to me, or I am a failure and a little grey blob on a windscreen somewhere that is just a bag of useless impulses.
The other mission is also a test of Will. But that's for another blog.
As usual I have to ask you: Will you join me in beating yourself out of being lazy just because it is easier?
Now stopping thinking isn't obviously an answer, as humans we have to think. We have to make plans. And we have to have exit strategies. We also need to understand the world around and so we need to observe and interpret. Good. What we don't need to do though is talk to ourselves about thoughts that are neither constructive nor useful. Huh? What I am talking about is something I've been talking about for a long long time, and have occasionally hinted at here and there. But I've never put it together. Like the man who invented microwaves but never built a microwave oven, I've had the idea called the Dancing Men and the Circle Theory since I was in my early 20's.
Quickly - the dancing men are thoughts you have that distract you from your original idea. "I really need to focus - but tomorrow. Today I can relax, there is plenty of time." That's a good example of a dancing man. They don't say no, they just delay and put off. The Circle theory is a dark place and all of us have been there - it's the cyclic logic of I should, but I can't because then this will happen, and then that will happen, and then I will lose that... it's not worth it. You talk yourself around in circles on a big decision (or a small one) and never end up doing it.
OK so now what? I have had these ideas for years. The solution of course is to listen to the dancing men, look at the circle, and then decide if their excuses and objections are real. If they are not, if they're mere projections of future or other totally non-determinable actions on behalf of another human being, then they should be ignored. At least that was the old idea. Well I think it's still true. But that doesn't mean there is a solution...merely a resolution.
In order to really achieve something one not only has to overcome ones inner thoughts, one has to continue to overcome those thoughts as time goes by. And base line - one has to act. To actually do something. And continue to do it. Ignoring all the thoughts that fly through the head. In other words, go back to the old saying of: Just get on with it.
I am going back to gym. Stop laughing, or grinning with that 'all knowing smile'. Several of my friends have asked me - but what's different from the multitude of times you have tried before? My intent. Instead of going because I want to be healthy, or because I want to look like a greek god... and not Dionysus as I presently do... Those are empty desires. I don't really care about my health insofar as as long as I am breathing today I am good. And I don't need to look like any other god except Dionysus as I get action all the time... So those wonderful little thoughts and dancing men and circle theories can play havoc on my hyperactive mind.
My aim this time is to prove that I am the master of my own thoughts. I am impulsive. You all know that. I do things on the spur, buy things, engage in things - that I'm very fond of. Others I am sluggish and slow. Why? Because my mind is free to act as it so chooses, using my excitable emotions as a justification. There is very little Guy thought of this and then acted accordingly and with self control. It's mainly - Shiny! Must have or I die. Isn't that incredibly weak?
But it is more than just impulse control. It is also anti-impulse control. What is the opposite of impulse? Planned? Except in this case it isn't planned either. It's the ability to know what should be done, but not do it because it's easier not to. Lethargy. Not acting because it's easier to not act is now my nemesis. How dare my brain center around the concept of not acting is better than acting? I can see the evolutionary survival tactic - it motivates one to find easier ways of adapting (less energy expenditure). But as a human being with the capacity to realize that I have this natural trait to tend towards inactivity if I can I must therefore rebel against it!
So 2013 is all about proving that I am stronger than my genes. Mentally I shall not accept myself until I am the master of my thoughts. But how then do I avoid a dancing man syndrome that I know I suffer from: Out-thinking the problem and so forgetting about the problem and not solving it? By finally following the advice of my dear dear friends: I will stop thinking. About the little evolutionary things -
This is my new not-think default chain of thought:
It is easier to sit at home and play mindless PC games than do something active. True.
The gains in a PC game are minor problem solving logic development. True.
PC Games are a form of escapism which is essential from time to time. True.
Doing something active is beneficial to thought process, health, physique. True.
There are no physical reasons why spending time being active is dangerous. True
There is no reason to spend so much time behind a PC. True
There is no reason to not be active. True.
One can do both, just less of one and more of the other. True
Being active is boring. True.
1 hour of boredom a day is not worth a heart attack, stroke, or being out of breath. True
Being bored is an inability to entertains one own self. True
I should be capable of entertaining myself for a single hour. True
Everything here is true. There is not a single solitary reason that is false. Except:
I'm so buggered after that day of work I just want to go home and unwind and not do anything active. Why? You just said being active is boring, being bored is a great way to unwind isn't it?
I'm so tired I just want to sit and not do anything. Playing a PC game is doing something, watching TV is doing something. If you're mentally tired then being Physically active is better for you then sitting not being active.
I am physically tired. For what reason? Sitting in one spot all day? Get out there and shake it out. Or is it from being active and running around, being active? Yay! Goal achieved. Take a break - go for a swim.
No there is no reason I can come up with apart from weak-mindedness as to why one shouldn't go to gym and be active. Anything less is literally me failing in my ability to call myself an intelligent human. Please note that this does exclude things like addictions, psychological issues and trauma's etc. Those are different and should be handled with care. This is purely looking for excuses to not be active. Looking for thoughts that are negative, and totally unfounded.
So I have two missions for 2013. My new motto is By Will Alone. By will alone I shall start to think about things worth thinking about, and to stop thinking about things that must get done and just fucking do them. I am in charge of my own damned mind if nothing else. It will answer to me, or I am a failure and a little grey blob on a windscreen somewhere that is just a bag of useless impulses.
The other mission is also a test of Will. But that's for another blog.
As usual I have to ask you: Will you join me in beating yourself out of being lazy just because it is easier?
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Final Punctuation
"Guy do you know what the sound of an unborn baby sounds like?"
"Guy where is your spleen?"
"If you play ping-pong on-board a ship and it is heaving in the waves, does the ping-pong ball sway with the ship?"
"Check-Mate."
Tuesday marked the end of a life that I knew, albeit not closely or intimately. I cannot tell you when he was born, or where, what his favorite colour was, or why he chose to live where he did. What I can say is how if affected my world, and the world of his son, my very best friend. Growing up in a world where sexuality wasn't yet someone one would shout out, being afraid of male figures in general, and just wanting to avoid contact with adults, made life for me rather difficult. Holland, as I'll term him, though it would probably come out more as Mr.Holland, was an imposing figure. Loud, brusque, direct, and stupidly smart, he did not stand on the conventions of typical colonial British niceties.
Dinner at the house of Holland was initially a dreaded period. For one of the remarkable traits Mr. Holland and his wife had instilled in my friend and his brothers, was the aptitude to eat fast, redirect questions towards guests, or counter an argument proposed by Mr. Holland with such alacrity and clarity of discourse that I would mumble and shrink and try to ignore Mr. Holland's gaze. But slowly by measured exposure I learned that the question wasn't a test of intelligence, but rather a means to instill questioning of everything from the mundane to the extraordinary.
I would like to say quickly but I think it was more like over a period of five or more years I learned to actually enjoy talking Mr. Holland. Engaging in discourse, testing idea's, and seeing if I could perhaps know something that the old man didn't. I knew he could be ferociously strict, and didn't give ground on principles, but that if the question was academic in nature, I was safe. And if I could talk to Mr. Holland, I could talk to anybody. The legacy that he leaves behind in my little world is one of questioning, asking, accepting, and not being afraid to engage others, regardless of their physical statue, or personal presence.
Mr. Holland also marks the death of the last of the original high-school friends fathers. Over the last ten years each of my four friends has lost a father. I am the only one left with a father. Death could be said to be the final punctuation, the full stop of life's sentence. But we know how the story goes, after a full-stop someone always has more to say. Another sentence is written. Oh it may contain hyphens, colons, or other random bits of misused punctuation, but generally, it goes on.
And my father and I go on. When I chat to my friends most of them talk of finding closure, or finding some kind of peace. Cancer, for all it's evils, sometimes has a silver lining: most of the time there is time to say good-bye. If my father was about to die what would our conversation be? What would he and I talk about? Well what do we talk about now? What is there to talk about? What legacy has my father left me?
This is complicated. Because the legacy is mixed. On one hand it is a legacy of emotional distance which makes it hard to form relationships. One the other, it's an aptitude for resilience, adaptation, and rebounding no matter what. With emotional distance coming individual strength. We both can survive alone. We don't rely on other humans to help us (from the sense of surviving). I rely heavily on my friends from emotional support and my mental well being, but I don't rely on humans for my own happiness. Occasionally I slip into needing someone else to be there, or desire it, as with a few posts ago, but when it doesn't happen, the resilience, the rebound, the adapting kicks in and I move on. Most humans do I guess. I just seem to care less.
So if my father and I have a conversation its one of pleasantries. How are you, all fine, busy, life happens. My world and his are so different is there a common ground? Do either of us want there to be? I am sure my father, who openly supports who I am, and how I am, might like more, but he doesn't know how to express that. I don't his father taught him how. Would I like a father I could turn to for advice on quantum mechanics or how to build a lightsabre? Yes. But then is that a father or just a friend?
Do I want a father whom I can turn to with emotional issues about how I am feeling, why I am sad or why I am happy? I don't see the need. I have my friends, myself, and my blog. As bizarre as that sounds, writing here relieves more pressure than ranting to a family member.
So what is left? Doing things we did together when I was young? Being in one another's company? That very rarely happened. In fact I don't have very many memories of 'good times with dad'. No sepia tainted afternoons spent quietly being together doing things. My father was either away working furiously to pay for my existence, or just very busy and so couldn't spend time with me. Besides I was pretending to be Skeletor, or Prime Evil, or Shedder, or any of the villains in the cartoons I used to watch, and didn't really give a fig about sports, manly pursuits (except for sword fighting), or women - which were and are his bywords.
We didn't ever connect. His interests are very different from mine. His approach to life is the same as mine. Make a plan. Survive. Find friends/lovers. Move on. Never stop. In that we are identical. Which I suppose brings the question around: What is family for? Growing you up into a human until you are about 20 or so. Then family becomes the support from a distance - generally. The phone-calls for help, or for direction. For reassurance or for comfort. At least I suppose that's what it is for.
But is it a family if the calls are merely to hear the voice? Merely to get a truncated news update on the going on of a life that is as foreign as phoning a Chinese noodle maker and asking how their day went? How involved should family be? Is the old aphorism blood is thicker than water mean anything anymore apart from being chemically correct? Should I reach out to my father, try and engage in his world? Should he force himself to start reading Star Trek novels? The answer came the other day: I am on whatsapp, and my father isn't. He prefers phone calls, I prefer whatsapp. And that's the last time we spoke. I won't shift into his world, and he won't shift into mine.
One of the other traits I picked up from him, was that the self is more important than the others. His actions have always seemed to be in survival of self, not others around him. He is a good and kind person, but only as far as he can be. When the ship is sinking, he's in a lifeboat. I am the same. I will help. I will try. But if push came to shove, I'd be one body back from the cliff edge shoving. So I won't give, and neither will he. I suspect it's because we both know there isn't really anything worth giving for. Different worlds, different ideas, indifferent interest, with the tenuous link of DNA.
What are the prospects for finding someone worthwhile in the future? For finding that singular point around which we both agree? Something to unit us? In 25 years of cognitive awareness I have not found or seen or glimpsed a single common interest. There is just too much of a difference of mentality with a mix of too much similarity in operational approach to life to warrant deeper connections.
Is this a sad state of affairs? Is it miserable that this is the mindset of father and son? Perhaps only of son? I don't think it's sad. I think it's life. Some families grow up around a super strong family nucleus. Others, like mine, grow up around a blown up one. Scattered in all directions without a central core. Is it naive of the molecules to try to rebuild the proverbial atom? Or is it impossible? An illusion at best? I am eager to see how things play out. Perhaps my father and I will surprise one another and modern technology will allow us to open dialogue on mutual terms, and to see something of a relationship grow forward. Or perhaps it wont and in thirty or forty odd years when I am seventy and my father is ninety we may have a breakthrough. Until then I don't think either of us really wants to try to hard for fear of finding that there really is nothing at all...
So Mr. Holland whatever you might have been to however many people, you were an engaging man who inspired at least one person to believe in what he says and fights until he is proven wrong. And even then to fight a little bit more, just for the fun of it. Whatever awaits you - be it oblivion or heaven, reincarnation or hundreds of bored virgins, I wish you toodle pip, you won't be forgotten.
"Guy where is your spleen?"
"If you play ping-pong on-board a ship and it is heaving in the waves, does the ping-pong ball sway with the ship?"
"Check-Mate."
Tuesday marked the end of a life that I knew, albeit not closely or intimately. I cannot tell you when he was born, or where, what his favorite colour was, or why he chose to live where he did. What I can say is how if affected my world, and the world of his son, my very best friend. Growing up in a world where sexuality wasn't yet someone one would shout out, being afraid of male figures in general, and just wanting to avoid contact with adults, made life for me rather difficult. Holland, as I'll term him, though it would probably come out more as Mr.Holland, was an imposing figure. Loud, brusque, direct, and stupidly smart, he did not stand on the conventions of typical colonial British niceties.
Dinner at the house of Holland was initially a dreaded period. For one of the remarkable traits Mr. Holland and his wife had instilled in my friend and his brothers, was the aptitude to eat fast, redirect questions towards guests, or counter an argument proposed by Mr. Holland with such alacrity and clarity of discourse that I would mumble and shrink and try to ignore Mr. Holland's gaze. But slowly by measured exposure I learned that the question wasn't a test of intelligence, but rather a means to instill questioning of everything from the mundane to the extraordinary.
I would like to say quickly but I think it was more like over a period of five or more years I learned to actually enjoy talking Mr. Holland. Engaging in discourse, testing idea's, and seeing if I could perhaps know something that the old man didn't. I knew he could be ferociously strict, and didn't give ground on principles, but that if the question was academic in nature, I was safe. And if I could talk to Mr. Holland, I could talk to anybody. The legacy that he leaves behind in my little world is one of questioning, asking, accepting, and not being afraid to engage others, regardless of their physical statue, or personal presence.
Mr. Holland also marks the death of the last of the original high-school friends fathers. Over the last ten years each of my four friends has lost a father. I am the only one left with a father. Death could be said to be the final punctuation, the full stop of life's sentence. But we know how the story goes, after a full-stop someone always has more to say. Another sentence is written. Oh it may contain hyphens, colons, or other random bits of misused punctuation, but generally, it goes on.
And my father and I go on. When I chat to my friends most of them talk of finding closure, or finding some kind of peace. Cancer, for all it's evils, sometimes has a silver lining: most of the time there is time to say good-bye. If my father was about to die what would our conversation be? What would he and I talk about? Well what do we talk about now? What is there to talk about? What legacy has my father left me?
This is complicated. Because the legacy is mixed. On one hand it is a legacy of emotional distance which makes it hard to form relationships. One the other, it's an aptitude for resilience, adaptation, and rebounding no matter what. With emotional distance coming individual strength. We both can survive alone. We don't rely on other humans to help us (from the sense of surviving). I rely heavily on my friends from emotional support and my mental well being, but I don't rely on humans for my own happiness. Occasionally I slip into needing someone else to be there, or desire it, as with a few posts ago, but when it doesn't happen, the resilience, the rebound, the adapting kicks in and I move on. Most humans do I guess. I just seem to care less.
So if my father and I have a conversation its one of pleasantries. How are you, all fine, busy, life happens. My world and his are so different is there a common ground? Do either of us want there to be? I am sure my father, who openly supports who I am, and how I am, might like more, but he doesn't know how to express that. I don't his father taught him how. Would I like a father I could turn to for advice on quantum mechanics or how to build a lightsabre? Yes. But then is that a father or just a friend?
Do I want a father whom I can turn to with emotional issues about how I am feeling, why I am sad or why I am happy? I don't see the need. I have my friends, myself, and my blog. As bizarre as that sounds, writing here relieves more pressure than ranting to a family member.
So what is left? Doing things we did together when I was young? Being in one another's company? That very rarely happened. In fact I don't have very many memories of 'good times with dad'. No sepia tainted afternoons spent quietly being together doing things. My father was either away working furiously to pay for my existence, or just very busy and so couldn't spend time with me. Besides I was pretending to be Skeletor, or Prime Evil, or Shedder, or any of the villains in the cartoons I used to watch, and didn't really give a fig about sports, manly pursuits (except for sword fighting), or women - which were and are his bywords.
We didn't ever connect. His interests are very different from mine. His approach to life is the same as mine. Make a plan. Survive. Find friends/lovers. Move on. Never stop. In that we are identical. Which I suppose brings the question around: What is family for? Growing you up into a human until you are about 20 or so. Then family becomes the support from a distance - generally. The phone-calls for help, or for direction. For reassurance or for comfort. At least I suppose that's what it is for.
But is it a family if the calls are merely to hear the voice? Merely to get a truncated news update on the going on of a life that is as foreign as phoning a Chinese noodle maker and asking how their day went? How involved should family be? Is the old aphorism blood is thicker than water mean anything anymore apart from being chemically correct? Should I reach out to my father, try and engage in his world? Should he force himself to start reading Star Trek novels? The answer came the other day: I am on whatsapp, and my father isn't. He prefers phone calls, I prefer whatsapp. And that's the last time we spoke. I won't shift into his world, and he won't shift into mine.
One of the other traits I picked up from him, was that the self is more important than the others. His actions have always seemed to be in survival of self, not others around him. He is a good and kind person, but only as far as he can be. When the ship is sinking, he's in a lifeboat. I am the same. I will help. I will try. But if push came to shove, I'd be one body back from the cliff edge shoving. So I won't give, and neither will he. I suspect it's because we both know there isn't really anything worth giving for. Different worlds, different ideas, indifferent interest, with the tenuous link of DNA.
What are the prospects for finding someone worthwhile in the future? For finding that singular point around which we both agree? Something to unit us? In 25 years of cognitive awareness I have not found or seen or glimpsed a single common interest. There is just too much of a difference of mentality with a mix of too much similarity in operational approach to life to warrant deeper connections.
Is this a sad state of affairs? Is it miserable that this is the mindset of father and son? Perhaps only of son? I don't think it's sad. I think it's life. Some families grow up around a super strong family nucleus. Others, like mine, grow up around a blown up one. Scattered in all directions without a central core. Is it naive of the molecules to try to rebuild the proverbial atom? Or is it impossible? An illusion at best? I am eager to see how things play out. Perhaps my father and I will surprise one another and modern technology will allow us to open dialogue on mutual terms, and to see something of a relationship grow forward. Or perhaps it wont and in thirty or forty odd years when I am seventy and my father is ninety we may have a breakthrough. Until then I don't think either of us really wants to try to hard for fear of finding that there really is nothing at all...
So Mr. Holland whatever you might have been to however many people, you were an engaging man who inspired at least one person to believe in what he says and fights until he is proven wrong. And even then to fight a little bit more, just for the fun of it. Whatever awaits you - be it oblivion or heaven, reincarnation or hundreds of bored virgins, I wish you toodle pip, you won't be forgotten.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Too much? Too little?
It is a hard line to think about a thought such as might be fluttered about by idle neurons along the lines of: Is too much too much? And how much is too much? And how much is much? As a species we love to give things values. The race thought it a miracle when we came up with 1 - 10, and hell, thought the world complete when someone realized they could quantify nothing with a 0. So everything we do is focused on this idea that there is some kind of universal value. We know the speed of light in a vacuum (notwithstanding blackholes, dust, or other bits and bobs that slow it down or speed it up), and we know how old we are individually (notwithstanding the bizarre desire to be younger or older than we actually are). And we can know the age of a tree by killing it and making sure it doesn't get any older whilst we count rings in the hopes of finding some great revelation. But how curious is it that as humans when it comes to the important things - the things that would actually be of value to have err... a value, we become as vague as a vague thing that isn't really there but could be if it was a Tuesday... in summer... and an afternoon, just after a rainfall, when Jupiter is fucking Uranus behind Mars. Or something like that.
Think of all the phrases - Too little, too late! Everything in moderation! Just a touch! Put in more effort. A pinch. A ball hair's width. Till it feels right. Apart from telling us absolutely nothing, we feel guilty for not going that extra mile (after how many to begin with? And is it a land mile or a nautical mile? Platinum bar corrected or not?). But then as if that wasn't enough (which would be how much exactly?) we then complicate the issue by judging things based on random numbers. He ate six whole bars of chocolate. And? I want five teaspoons of sugar in my tea. FIVE? We take numbers and try to use them to arbitrarily control others actions, or influence our own. So eating five bars of almond chocolate is extreme? According to the people who are allergic to almonds more than 0 bars is extreme. According to someone stuck in an crashed plane on a glacier with only bars of chocolate - it's a rationing meant to last out a month of foodless hell. I want my hair short. How short? Touching shoulder length? Barely breaking skin?
And who comes up with things like: sleep with 10 women in a week and you're a slut. Sleep with 1 all your life and you're faithful. Science has proven that men are designed to sleep with as many women as they can afford to keep alive. Women are designed to trick all men who sleep with them, that their seed spawned the baby which now needs looking after. By definition of species survival guide book rule 101 - sleep around, spread the seed, and survive. The race evolves a little and suddenly rabbits become monogamists with deep seated feelings of shame when they have a brace of bunnies with Bunty from warren 3B just down the drag. So why oh why do we need these silly rules?
And who chooses them? Well we do. We allow ourselves the become wrapped up in our own devices and end up wondering why the hell half our country can marry six women and be happy, and the other half can barely live with one for five years without divorce and alimony. Well it boils down to: One half has a different numbering system than the other... I say 10 is good, but 12 is bad. You say 4 is good but 6 is bad. Both decisions were made based on the idea of what 10 and 4 and 12 and 6 mean. 4 is lots compared to 1. 10 is little compared to a 1000, but huge next to 0.00001.
We don't really know what these random things are either. If I say picture 10 people. That's a good sized funeral by modern standards. Now picture your school hall during assembly. 500 people? 1500 people? Now picture a stadium of people. 50 000 people. That's a lot. And that's about as big as we can go. Our brains just pretend to be able to think of more. What's the difference visually (and here's the clue) between 10 000 people and 100 000 people? Nothing. So how small is a micron versus a nanometer? For that matter is a quark any bigger or smaller than a planet? Well depends on your point of view (clue 2).
So what we as humans do is look (clue 3) at one thing, and then compare it to another. And then we make shit up. If one Zebra eats this much grass, all Zebra should eat this much grass. Why? Because a system we have developed to help us work out how much stuff we're seeing kinda says so. Really... think about it... marry one person. Why? Because one is intimate and close. Really? But can't I love 5 people? No. Just one. Errr... why? Because everyone else does. Oh.
Numbers actually mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We have some. You have some. More or less. That's all it should be. You want some wives, I want less. Or more. And that's where the judgement should end. And I certainly shouldn't be made to feel guilty because I want the most. Why shouldn't I have the most? Because we should share. What? My more than yours becomes equal to yours because ... err... the Simon says? Fat people have more clothing than thin people. They have more atoms too. Bigger people breath more air.
We see things and then try to work out how these things fit into our numbers idea. We work around things that can't or don't have numbers (lots, more or less, roughly), but we assign some kind of number-like idea to everything. Isn't that just a little foolish? After all, if I am assigning different random values to things, how can we possible agree? So then one of us must prove the other right or wrong. My five warriors fuck up your five thousand warriors... or something like that.
Perhaps it is time that we move outside the numbers game? And start to look at life in terms of less and more. Two simple little words that sum up thousands of years of mathematics. I am more happy to day than I was yesterday because I realized that all my worry about numbers was a waste of existence. And I am less likely to give a flying fuck about anyone who says I sleep too much or drink too little, or don't have long enough hair. I sleep more than some, but less than others. I drink less that some but more than others. And my hair is longer than some but shorter than others. Not a single solitary one of those statements is judgmental, a form of persecution, or a negative comment. All three statements are totally true. Totally accurate. And totally without ego, pride, or malice.
Doesn't that sound like a better place to be in? So for just a single 24 hour period try the think of the planet and all the amazing things in it, in terms of more AND less than yourself. There's the key though, the statements cannot be used in isolation. More and less. I have more money than some, but less than others. I am more happy than some, but less happy than others. Together they create harmony, singularly they create murder, suicide, and an end to the beautiful things...
Think of all the phrases - Too little, too late! Everything in moderation! Just a touch! Put in more effort. A pinch. A ball hair's width. Till it feels right. Apart from telling us absolutely nothing, we feel guilty for not going that extra mile (after how many to begin with? And is it a land mile or a nautical mile? Platinum bar corrected or not?). But then as if that wasn't enough (which would be how much exactly?) we then complicate the issue by judging things based on random numbers. He ate six whole bars of chocolate. And? I want five teaspoons of sugar in my tea. FIVE? We take numbers and try to use them to arbitrarily control others actions, or influence our own. So eating five bars of almond chocolate is extreme? According to the people who are allergic to almonds more than 0 bars is extreme. According to someone stuck in an crashed plane on a glacier with only bars of chocolate - it's a rationing meant to last out a month of foodless hell. I want my hair short. How short? Touching shoulder length? Barely breaking skin?
And who comes up with things like: sleep with 10 women in a week and you're a slut. Sleep with 1 all your life and you're faithful. Science has proven that men are designed to sleep with as many women as they can afford to keep alive. Women are designed to trick all men who sleep with them, that their seed spawned the baby which now needs looking after. By definition of species survival guide book rule 101 - sleep around, spread the seed, and survive. The race evolves a little and suddenly rabbits become monogamists with deep seated feelings of shame when they have a brace of bunnies with Bunty from warren 3B just down the drag. So why oh why do we need these silly rules?
And who chooses them? Well we do. We allow ourselves the become wrapped up in our own devices and end up wondering why the hell half our country can marry six women and be happy, and the other half can barely live with one for five years without divorce and alimony. Well it boils down to: One half has a different numbering system than the other... I say 10 is good, but 12 is bad. You say 4 is good but 6 is bad. Both decisions were made based on the idea of what 10 and 4 and 12 and 6 mean. 4 is lots compared to 1. 10 is little compared to a 1000, but huge next to 0.00001.
We don't really know what these random things are either. If I say picture 10 people. That's a good sized funeral by modern standards. Now picture your school hall during assembly. 500 people? 1500 people? Now picture a stadium of people. 50 000 people. That's a lot. And that's about as big as we can go. Our brains just pretend to be able to think of more. What's the difference visually (and here's the clue) between 10 000 people and 100 000 people? Nothing. So how small is a micron versus a nanometer? For that matter is a quark any bigger or smaller than a planet? Well depends on your point of view (clue 2).
So what we as humans do is look (clue 3) at one thing, and then compare it to another. And then we make shit up. If one Zebra eats this much grass, all Zebra should eat this much grass. Why? Because a system we have developed to help us work out how much stuff we're seeing kinda says so. Really... think about it... marry one person. Why? Because one is intimate and close. Really? But can't I love 5 people? No. Just one. Errr... why? Because everyone else does. Oh.
Numbers actually mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We have some. You have some. More or less. That's all it should be. You want some wives, I want less. Or more. And that's where the judgement should end. And I certainly shouldn't be made to feel guilty because I want the most. Why shouldn't I have the most? Because we should share. What? My more than yours becomes equal to yours because ... err... the Simon says? Fat people have more clothing than thin people. They have more atoms too. Bigger people breath more air.
We see things and then try to work out how these things fit into our numbers idea. We work around things that can't or don't have numbers (lots, more or less, roughly), but we assign some kind of number-like idea to everything. Isn't that just a little foolish? After all, if I am assigning different random values to things, how can we possible agree? So then one of us must prove the other right or wrong. My five warriors fuck up your five thousand warriors... or something like that.
Perhaps it is time that we move outside the numbers game? And start to look at life in terms of less and more. Two simple little words that sum up thousands of years of mathematics. I am more happy to day than I was yesterday because I realized that all my worry about numbers was a waste of existence. And I am less likely to give a flying fuck about anyone who says I sleep too much or drink too little, or don't have long enough hair. I sleep more than some, but less than others. I drink less that some but more than others. And my hair is longer than some but shorter than others. Not a single solitary one of those statements is judgmental, a form of persecution, or a negative comment. All three statements are totally true. Totally accurate. And totally without ego, pride, or malice.
Doesn't that sound like a better place to be in? So for just a single 24 hour period try the think of the planet and all the amazing things in it, in terms of more AND less than yourself. There's the key though, the statements cannot be used in isolation. More and less. I have more money than some, but less than others. I am more happy than some, but less happy than others. Together they create harmony, singularly they create murder, suicide, and an end to the beautiful things...
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
THE BOY IN THE BED
Where are you from boy?
Smiles in the morning, someone’s yawning
Hands, fingers, touch;
Thoughts and words, flying birds
Coffee, sugar, Smoke;
Why are you here boy?
Hard sex heavy breathing, Heaven heaving
Heart, Mind, fuck;
Avo on toast someone’s ghost
What do you want boy?
Complexity, simplicity, quantum;
Confusion versus clarity, no-one’s charity;
Desire, Love,
Restraint;
When will you leave boy?
Don’t.
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