Perspective

We like to know that we can do without
That less is more
That half empty is really half full

But how do we know what is enough
When we were born complete
And ready to face the day

If only we could see
How much we really have/halve

Flight

Your silence is too audible
It grates upon my ears
And when I look into your eyes
I see my own worst fears

I see the times that you weren't there
So visibly absent
And when you hold me in your arms
I know that I resent

The flowers that you gave me
The necklace round my neck
The way you kiss me as you leave
A single hurried peck

Your heart beats slow and steady
Mine flutters like a bird
It's trapped within my ribcage
Its chirping never heard

So long since you have seen me
Yet I cross your path each day
This day-to-day denial
In your stony stoic way

But I want love and wonder
Someone to know my mind
A man that loves me deeply
A man that's smart and kind

He'd ask me how my day was
And take from me my bags
To him I'd be so special
Not just a wife who nags

Or maybe I'll just get a dog
And walk him every day
He'd love me unconditionally
And we would often play

A dog would keep me warm at night
And be a lovely friend
A dog is a great listener
My broken heart would mend

But maybe I can be alone
And all I need is me
Some solitude and freedom
Some real autonomy

I could enjoy my company
And do just as I like
I could take a mid-day nap
Or do a morning hike

I could read a book straight through
Or head off to the mall
I could take a bubble bath
Or watch the tree's leaves fall

Yes, that's just what I'll do
I need some time for me
And then when I am all alone
I'll simply, truly, be.

A Lively Epidemic

Life is a disease
That does affect us all
Some symptoms surely show themselves
And suddenly we fall.

Life ensures we're dying;
We feel it every day.
But we forget the meaning
And we forget to say:

This day, it could be my last!
This day I thrill to BE!
My time alive is limited,
But so far I am free

To learn and love as I see fit,
To rejoice in the world;
Amazement truly strikes me,
As options are unfurled.

All chances must be taken,
All mistakes soon forgot,
All good in me is nourished,
And demons swiftly fought.

So seize your life in both your hands,
One chances is all we've got!
Seek out opportunity
and give life your best shot.

Though dying we are still alive,
Don't hate mortality;
Remember that this is your time,
And live accordingly.

Cleft Palate

The skies do cry,
Say, "Il fait pleut"
And loves will die,
"Fermez les yeux"
And when I sigh,
"Ne soyez pas bleu"
And I'll belie,
"C'est vous je veux".

So make me scream,
Shout, "Oh mon Dieu!"
And when I dream
Je vois nous deux
And as we age
Nous sommes vieux
But love me still
Je suis mieux.

Fruitful Ponderings

You must be freakin' kidding me!
Fresh squeezed orange juice too?
That fancy shit is just for people
Too lazy to chew!

An orange slice ground up in your mouth
It will expel some juice
The freshest juice you've ever had
Or are you too obtuse

To realize that you waste your time
With shopping and with stress
With buying things and feeling like
You need another dress.

That fancy shampoo that you buy
Cleans just like rest
Although you feel much freer,
Do realize you're oppressed

Your objects they do own you
Your couch controls your life
It defines your actions
And causes needless strife.

You buy that car because it's cool
You need those shoes because they're neat
But $90 bucks for footwear
Is crazy for your feet.

They teach us that we need these things
That stuff will make us happy
And then we are all mixed up
When rich life still feels crappy.

Gold will make you shiny
And make your fingers glisten
But it won't help you make real friends
Or make your children listen.

It's all a scam, a money-grab;
They trick you, can't you see?
They make you think you need these things,
But best in life is free.

Sunsets and sweet kisses,
Will seldom cost a cent,
And when you don't buy stupid shit
You'll have cash left for rent.

Society is deep in debt,
but that's just half the deal
We get lost with wanting
And soon forget what's real.

That t-shirt, it can't hug you
And furniture can't talk
Nice shrubbery won't be your friend
Alone through life you'll walk

Be real, make your own damn juice,
And keep things simple sweet,
Focus on the ones you love,
On people that you meet.

Axioms, Adages?

"Success is being able to do what makes you happy."
- Ian

"...the failures of big ideas are more impressive than the successes of little ones."
- Joel Fisher

"Sometimes you have to jump out of the box to realize you were in it."
-Alexis McKenzie



Three movies, that collectively should be able to help you find your happiness, your passion, or simply contentment:

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/randy_pausch_really_achieving_your_childhood_dreams.html

http://www.ted.com/talks/viktor_frankl_youth_in_search_of_meaning.html

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/srikumar_rao_plug_into_your_hard_wired_happiness.html

Apathetic fallacy

Yes, please water me
I need to grow
I’m not old enough to deal with all this death and sadness
It’s no wonder you cry for me
But do you really know
What it’s like
And that the same tears on my head
Fall on her
But she can’t feel them
And somehow
Neither can I

The Curmudgeon's Lament

And I was made for more than this,
The listless talk and drinking piss.
The excrement of daily life,
The need for me to find a wife.

I am deep in the machine,
I know not where I have been.
But I know where I'd like to go,
and there are things I'd like to know.

This daily driving towards a goal,
throws me deeper into a hole -
The hole, my grave, seems closer now,
but how to quit? I'm not sure how.

I had dreams once, and passions too;
So many things I'd hoped to do.
But in the meadow of my days
I found a job, one that pays.

And now I'm in the winter-time,
Each day a little more a mime,
A dollar earned is no relief
from travesty, and sad belief:

The wealth I sit on isn't grand,
And Death has clutched me in his hand.
He squeezes out the life from me,
And only now may my eyes see:

All is nothing, without heart,
With love, you learn this from the start.
So too with goals, they need some flame,
They need passion, don't be tame!

Don't back down from destiny,
Don't imprison stuff that's free!
Let thoughts and dreams and goals go wild,
Maintain the wonder of a child!

Let yourself do better than me,
I'm old and rich and unhappy.
I woke up from my dreams too soon,
my life became a thankless tune.

Create great music - live your dreams!
Before you're splitting at the seams.

End Tay Part II

When I'm moody, I'm a force to be reckoned with. Unresponsive, yet shooting death glares with my eyes. I'm too apathetic to move any other part of my body.

My body. They like it. I cheat on Jason all the time. My dealer, Dave, he'll give me stuff for free when I'm friendly with him. Sometimes all it takes is a handjob. If I'm really desperate I'll blow him - ha, sometimes I blow him for blow. I wonder if that's why they call it that. It certainly feels like a job.

I don't know how I've stayed in school this long. The art program is unique, in that I only have to be productive for short periods of time (as long as those periods are before the deadline). A great work of art can be created really quickly. Like John Cage's 4'33", sometimes all you need to be is a great bullshitter, and you can make something out of nothing. If you're really good, you can even make it seem substantial.

Once I handed in a blank canvas. I spun some story about how it was tabla rasa, all of human existence before experience. It was the feeling before life and after death. Blah blah blah. She totally bought it and I got an 'A'. This was too easy.

When I needed to come down and I couldn't get valium, I'd use alcohol to rock me to sleep. The hyperactive euphoria that comes with a buzz would soon be followed by the warm, fuzzy feeling that comes with mild inebriation. I'd wrap myself in layers of intoxication until I'd slip into sleep, thinking of nothing and enjoying the silence.

After a night like that, there was a good chance I'd wake up feeling like hell. My mouth tasting like garbage and my head being sliced apart by sharp knives, I'd down a few advil (or T3's, if I had them) and hide under the covers until they kicked in. Sometimes I was in my own bed; other times I'd spent that time covertly trying to figure out where I was. Guys are too easy - they're always willing to bring you home. This is supposed to reflect poorly upon the girl, but I think that it says a lot about the standards of most guys. Today was a situation of the latter variety. I consider phoning the stud's mother. I think better of it. I consider hurling on his carpet. I refrain. Soon I am well enough to scrape myself off of his bed, and shuffle home to shower. I might be fucked up, but I make a conscious effort to not be dirty. I don't like the feeling of filth. I'm corrupt enough on the outside, I don't need to look like it too.

End Tay

It's always unexpected. One minute I'm on top of the world, I can do anything, follow my passions, multi-tasking, taking on new jobs, making new friends, I can do it all. My brain is whirring so fast and I'm positively exhilarated. Feet firmly on the ground, but I'm flying.

The next is stasis. I'm trapped. Stuck within my own inability to function. A lump on a log. I am a human blob on the face of the planet. A waste of space.

The ebb and flow of my mood is inconvenient, to say the least. Caffeine brings me up, makes me alert, full of energy, and ready to take on the world. Over-eating slowly immerses me into a coma of self-loathing and numbness, my brain over-loaded with serotonin.

The uppers make my mind explode with fireworks - pretty, fiery, explosive. Happiness in all its colours. Valium brings me down, makes the world move more slowly - I'm wading through life like I'm up to my eyeballs in pool.

I don't even know what I want anymore. It used to be happiness; now, sometimes all I crave is clarity. Respite from the fogginess that permeates my existence. More recently I've thought wistfully of death. Lusted after it. The quiet. The peace. But I know it's not the answer.

Popping a few friends into my mouth, I swallow breakfast. I can function fairly normally off of ecstasy, and it's a great way to start the morning. I feel alive.

I've lost 20 pounds since starting this deadly regimen. My clothes hang on me like my body is a coat hanger. My hair comes out more quickly than I'd like to admit. But my stomach is flat as a board (concave sometimes) and I'm managing to get everything done. I've never been so creative. My art is prospering - my professors are noticing, and the feedback is good. They're talking about art galleries. On a good day I listen, and nod enthusiastically (yet modestly). Other days I'm a typical artist; completely out of it, immersed in my work.

Jason (my boyfriend) is supportive, but not in the way you would think. He likes 'em thin, and he is a child of the 80's at heart. He shares drugs with me, we do them together. Instead of roses he brings me acid. What a sweetheart. We trip out together, and watch the colours of a sunset bleed into the trees below. We watch the trees dance in all the light.

I stop eating. It's not intentional. I'm just so busy, and really, what with all the appetite suppressants I'm ingesting, it's not surprising. When I can't get real uppers I combine pseudoephedrine (a decongestant in cold pills) with coffee, and I feel pretty ok. I consume liquids and pills; food is incidental, serendipitous, or the result of the munchies on the rare occasion that I smoke pot. Sometimes my roommate slips me a vitamin pill. She's a sweetheart, but I can't help but think: What's the point? No pill can undo the damage I've done.

I'm careful though. I never use needles - I don't want to bother speeding up this process by catching AIDS or a festering wound that turns into gangrene. That doesn't sound like my idea of a good time. Cocaine, now that sounds like a good time. It feels clean, and it doesn't leave much of a mess, except for when I sneeze blood.

Jason's a tool, and when he drinks we have fights that are high volume, high velocity. It always ends with some E and some intensely hard make-up sex. Rough. Like I want him to beat the love into me. Fierce. Make me feel something, even if it hurts.

The Rules

These are the rules.

- Whenever possible, you cannot hurt others.

- You must avoid that which will cause irrevocable harm to yourself.

- Be free. Do as you will, and refrain from doing that which you would not like to do.

- Be creative. Find a way to live your life successfully. Assess your wants. Re-evaluate your needs.

- Repeat.

This is very radical thinking, and it is lovely. It sounds great.

It will be isolating. It will be illuminating. It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

At least, it was for me.

People will try to tell you that it isn’t possible, that it can’t be done. Everyone has do to things they don’t want to do, they’ll say. It’s part of life.

They were wrong. Trapped within the prescribed lives that were fed to them, these people simply did not know.

---

3 years ago, I lived in residence at McGill.

I was in the final year of my Master’s Degree in Library Science. A lesser-known but rather respectable degree, I was on the right track (so to speak) and would likely get a decent job upon graduation. With the prospect of a 9-5 Mon-Fri career looming on the horizon, I had a little melt-down.

It all started with the inspirational videos.

---

I didn’t like library school. I found it boring, tedious, and easy. The monotony and dullness of it all was something I spent much of my time seeking to escape – enter inspirational videos.

Watching Gossip Girl is not productive. Watching Gossip Girl is a “waste of time” and probably turns my brain into mush. However, if one must watch some form of visual entertainment, inspiring videos are just the ticket!

Enter Randy Paush.

Randy is one of the many genius individuals that gives absolutely wonderful talks. He was a professor (as many of these geniuses are) but the Amazon guy, the Apple guy, and Bill Gates left the world of academia and followed their own path. Common link: They become wildly successful. Other common link: These men emphasize the importance of following your dreams! “Do what you love!” is a common refrain. Find a way to do it! If you’re passionate enough, you’ll find a way.

It’s sentiments like these that turned that snowballed my musings into a snowman with a jaunty hat. I was hooked.

---

As I was saying, I was nearing graduation. Having been in school since the age of 5, the prospect of beginning a career was… unsettling. Would it mean the end of learning? Would it mean settling down, stability, responsibility? Would it mean lots of money and no time to spend it? Or would I find that elusive balance, and master the work/play dichotomy?

Rather than facing these interesting yet daunting questions, I chose to be unemployed.

---

Enter “The Rules”.

I devised the rules one night when I was up late from having a shot of coffee 14 hours earlier. My caffeine sensitivity combined with a newly-cracked-open-Nietzsche book created a monster – one with a desire to learn! And do! And make every second of my life count.

“The term “free spirit” cannot have any other meaning here, but that it is liberated, a spirit that took control of itself once again.” – Nietzsche

I sought to liberate my spirit, my soul, my intangible sense of being. Watching Randy (a dying man) explain the importance of time made it seem URGENT to seize the day (carpe diem!) and free myself now. A part of me had waited for this moment, and waited years.

And finally, with school nearly over, and no children, pets, or ailing parents to care for, I was free. The world was my oyster. I would be a pearl.

This took some plotting.

---

Unsurprisingly, as a student, I did not have a huge amount of savings. So as I suffered through the remnants of my final term, I concocted some money-making schemes:

I sold everything I could bear to part with.

I sold the regular stuff, like furniture and appliances - the easily replaceable big stuff that didn’t really have that much sentimental value anyways. I sold clothes I hadn’t worn in years, CDs and DVDs that could be accessed virtually anywhere (they’ll be outdated soon anyways, if they aren’t already), I sold technology (laptops, ipods, phones) and jewelry from old boyfriends. I sold my blood plasma.

(I kept the accordion.)

When I had tricked other people into spending their hard-earned money on my useless possessions (root “possess” because they end up owning you) – I had provided for myself a nice little budget of about $8000. This had the potential to be a lot of money. I felt rich! Flush and fat with money, I dreamt of the things I could buy, but they were no longer the things I was “taught” to buy.

I wanted more than material things. I wanted adventure.

---

I brought a knapsack with me to graduation. I stretched the truth by telling my parents I was going back-packing in Europe (who knows? I could end up there). I was going to cross the stage, grab my exorbitantly expensive piece of paper – and hit the road like a ton of bricks on roller skates.

I had with me what I deemed to be the bare essentials (and I soon learned that there was much more I could do without):

- 7 pairs of underwear
- 7 pairs of socks
- 1 pair of skinny jeans, not too tight
- 5 shirts of varying colour, thickness, material, length, and design
- 2 bras
- Toothbrush and floss
- Deodorant
- Little curved nail scissors
- Chapstick
- Pen, pencil, notebook
- $200 cash and a bank card
- My library card

I wore sweatpants and a t-shirt (and the appropriate underthings), a hair-tie in my hair, a silver necklace that was a dragon pressed into molten silver, 2 friendship rings and a watch.

For the first time in 5 years I would be parading around the world without make-up.

---

Make-up is a very interesting thing.

- guys don’t and/or can’t wear it
- we all look better with it
- it can cost a fortune
- it’s damned heavy
- sometimes tested on animals, sometimes causes eye or skin infections
- really a fucked up idea with polarized consequences

Bottom line: it’s heavy.

Happiness

What makes you happy?

Is it the sky when filled with sun?
Or times with friends when you have fun?

Is it having money or wealth?
Or enjoying perfect health?

Is it music, in your ears?
Or drinking way too many beers?

Is it closeness with a friend?
Or broken hearts just on the mend?

Is it your job, or your career?
Or conquering a favourite fear?

Is it your dog or cat or fish?
Or seeing a star and making a wish?

Is it your family, or your wife?
Or babes to whom you've given life?

Is it grass or trees or flowers?
Or climbing to the tops of towers?

What makes your heart spin, round and round?
What makes it resonate with sound?

Go to it, find it, make it be!
With this in mind, you will be free.

The Blissful Misery of Love

Put your hands into my ears
Into my mouth - into my fears
Put them softly on my heart
Slowly pull my ribs apart

Now quickly take the organ out
And hook your fingers on the doubt
Steal my love and worries too
And keep them always safe with you

Sew me up with a caress
As you slip off my fuchsia dress
Kiss me gently like the sun
And tell me I'm the only one

Clothed in laughter; deep in thought
Half-way through the wine you brought
Under cover sans disguise
I'm lost and found within your eyes

Let's make a pact to stay this way
In love in lust in disarray
But nothing lasts - not even this
(Let's seal the promise with a kiss)

Just know that each sweet touch will lie
Each word has life and soon must die
The honesty of love so pure
Will try, but must fail to endure

The passing of days/months/years
Destroys a love and brings back fears
One day my heart will cease to beat
No longer will you be complete

Our love will end in tragedy
Too soon your blinded eyes will see
The folly of eternal love
And shame of heaven up above

So when you hold my hands in yours
(as we make love instead of wars)
Know that our time is very brief
That soon you will be filled with grief

Like water carefully cupped in hands
Time flows through (like hourglass sands)
This moment - it could be our last
This fleeting present becomes past

Cup of Joe

They say that pot is a gate-way drug, but you never hear people warning about caffeine.

Suddenly you're alert and your head has never felt so alive before.

You can do it all. You can clean and think and dream and run and dance and do homework and take it all on you are super! You can do it all! It's amazing and magical and less than $2!

Until the crash, and you're falling... falling asleep. You feel so tired and you need it again. Give me the coffee, I'm jones-ing for it. I don't need it I just really really want it.

Uppers were the next logical step.

Coffee stains your teeth and really it's not as convenient as a few little pills. Let's start with adderall and pseduo-ephedrine. They're easily procured, not illegal, and really ease you into the flighty high that feels so. damn. good.

Everything is still moving very very quickly. It's great - you're getting so much done! And nothing seems crazy important like it used to. When it's time to sleep ('cause let's be realistic - you have to sleep eventually) all it takes is a few shots of vodka (it tastes so clean). Food is no longer necessary for energy.

Ecstasy is just another pill.

It's great when you have time for, well, everything! It feels really good when you have your pills, and that girl from that party shared her coke with you and that felt pretty fucking good too. It's not as easy to get as the pills, but it works twice as well.

Life starts moving really quickly, like when you're on the merry-go-round at a kid's playground and it's spinning really, really quickly and any second you're going to fall off but for now you're hanging on and it feels really, really good (even though you might get sick any second now).

You don't think about inconsequential things anymore. It doesn't matter. You used to care about what people thought or how you looked but now all that matters is that you're awake! And that you have a pocket full of pills. You could quit, but what's the point? You feel happy for once. Things feel good.

What does it matter that it's artificial? Everything is artificial these days.

(Including happiness).

Closer

Push me up against the wall
and catch me as I start to fall
so deep in love with you.

Bodies - separate - feel like one
(Oh! Life has never felt this fun!)
I like the words you whisper in my ear.

Buttons never felt so grand
As when undone with your strong hand
Take off my clothes and inhibitions too.

Enter my life and body too
I like the things you want to do
and suddenly the world becomes so still.

You like my touch I like your smile
Let's just stay here for a while
I want to live inside your circling arms.

The world is big and I'm so small
And as we stand here in the hall
I feel the universe condense for once.

This too will end (as all things do)
But for now, you're all that's true -
I'll hang on to this moment for all time.

And when I'm alone in my bed
I'll think of curls upon your head
and recall that I once was part of two.

I hate moving

Even when stationary, we're moving. Like bodies of water that are "still", under the surface we're teeming with life and constantly going going going.

The blood in our veins, the air in our lungs, the molecules and atoms and electrons. (What is smaller than an electron? It's probably moving too.)

We're always moving. So it's no wonder I'm so damn tired. Do we rest when we're dead?

We're not just moving, we're rushing. What are we rushing towards? Where is it that we need to get to so quickly? What is the purpose of deadlines and due dates? What happens if we don't get it all done? Does life stop? Does everything fall apart?

What would happen if it all fell apart for you? Would you finally be free to do as you like? Or would you be trapped, trapped within this world that revolves around time and appointments and goal-setting and goal-attainment and fixed periods of time for everything from gestation to graduation?

It's no wonder that books and movies like Fight Club are popular - our greatest fantasy is to give it up all up and start over. To live with "nothing". To live with as little as we can. Imagine not working towards buying new things. Imagine buying only what you need. Imagine feeling. Imagine care less, and caring more. What would that mean for you?

But no. You need this job. You need it so you can buy ___, and you need ___ so that you can be happy/healthy/look good/feel good/keep up with the Jones'. Or is it Joneses?

I think one day I'll have to find out what it's like. But first I just have to achieve some fixed-time-period goals, and buy a few things.

"Can I help you find anything, or are you just browsing?"

Maybe we can't figure out what to do with our lives because we already have everything. If you're reading this, it means you're literate and have access to the internet. I think it's safe to assume that you have many or all of life's "basic necessities". (Who coined that phrase anyways?)

We are so completely materialistic ("we" being the affluent western world and a few other select areas on the globe). Our daily lives revolve around what we're going to buy next. Do you go to work to pay for your house? Do you go to school to get a job so that one day you can pay for a house? Even if you own your house, you can buy stuff for it (decor/furnishings/etc.) Is it your kids you buy for? It would be awful if they missed out on growing up with the incessant need to want and "need".

Let me be clear: want ≠ need. What constitutes need? Do we need a house? (Could you live without one?) Do we need a car or shoes? There are people that do without. Do you need a bathroom when you "have" to "go"? (Technically, no.) Do we need 5-20 pairs of pants? Seriously. Things are getting out of hand. We've forgotten the difference between want and need and everything is getting confused and SOMEBODY out there is making a buck and that's good, because they have a house to pay for, you know. And that's going to make them "happy".

It gets worse.

We have commercialized emotion. We have commercialized LOVE. We have. In one breathe we declare love as "sacred" and in the next we configure ways to prove this with objects. The idea of "marriage" is lost somewhere in the shadow of "weddings", and this materialistic gesture is forever immortalized by (often) insanely expensive rings. With the rise of capitalism (or some form of it) came the institution of marking your love by precious metals and accompanying stones. We've heard the questions: "Well what what you DO if he proposed but you hated the ring???!" and despite insisting that we'd marry them anyways, a small voice inside of us confesses that we'd have to do something about that ring and get it changed or what have you.

Because it matters. (But why?)

You've probably also answered the question, "If your house was on fire and you could only save one thing, what would it be?" For some people, it's photos. For others, "valuable" items or sentimental objects. It varies, but there are things we hold near and dear and seek to keep forever. As though holding on to a picture frame would give us some sense of purpose, being, or happiness as we stare at the rubble that once functioned as shelter.

We are so completely attached to stuff. It's undeniable. I'm not exempt from this widespread disease. I save my money for things and spend my money on stuff and it makes me "happier". I work hard in school and "achieve" so that one day I can get a nice fancy job and make MORE money so that I can do things that make me "happy". I'm not trying to suggest that this is completely wrong, and that the direction my life is going in is downhill. I'm merely recognizing that I'm a part of the problem, and I'm not sure what the solution is.

Maybe only when we have nothing do we have a chance to figure out what we need. Maybe having so much, so little real need, has caused us to lose our way. What makes you happy? Is it your car? Your ipod? Your couch? I'm ignoring the fact that there are most likely living-breathing-organisms that are extremely important to you. I'm focusing on the fact that we think of STUFF/OBJECTS/THINGS as the gateway to happiness. I just need that dress. I just need the iphone4. And it'll make me happy, or at least happier.

This stuff breaks. It deteriorates. It gets lost. It burns in a metaphorical fire. And then what? What do we have then when everything that makes us "happy" goes up in smoke?

Is it the people around us? Moms, dads, girlfriends, boyfriends, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, children, neighbours, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers, teachers, friends, mentors, librarians, mistresses, step-children, foster children, step-parents, foster parents, and the strangers we don't even know but do feel empathy for? Is this what truly matters? Is this what's left?

I would like to say yes. I would like to say that love is the thing. In fact, sometimes I even believe it. But we know too well that love can break. And love can break us. It can take us up to heights so high that when it drops us, smashing us into bits, we don't know how to put the pieces back together again, and suddenly that house you live in is also no longer a source of happiness.

This calls for clarification. The aforementioned love relies upon other people. It is inter-personal, and not fully within your control (as much as you may like it to be.) Perhaps it is other forms of love that cannot be taken from us (as long as we don't allow them to be silenced by our "needs").

Some sensations are not readily apparent to us. Have you ever "loved" air? Probably not (unless you're a yogi, in which case you probably understand why yoga has been practiced for thousands of years). But if it (air) were taken away, if you needed it (more than you needed that new toaster oven), I'm fairly certain you would love it were you able to obtain it again. Have you ever loved the colour of the sky, the fact that you could see, or the way you thought to look up at all? Have you given yourself that much credit? Have you thanked and loved yourself for ever facet of your being?

Children allegedly laugh 80 times more than adults. Children generally have no money, and until a certain age do not know the concept of "buying" or "owning". Most likely their young life is comprised of discovering and viewing the world with wonder and awe with a penchant for hilarity. Sure, kids "need" - they need food and cleanliness, social interaction and other healthy things. That, I don't think I could argue against. In fact, this is not a perfect example so much as it is a model for being.

Learn. Laugh. LIVE your life. Enjoy it. Don't wish it away. LOVE yourself, wholly and completely. Without make-up, without hesitation. There are few things that cannot be taken away from us, and if we establish some form of self-love and a wonder and appreciation for the world around us (whatever form it may take), perhaps then we may find happiness. Perhaps then we'll stop pursuing it with the rabid tenacity of a starving dog.


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


Wow, but I digress.

If one achieves self-love & world-wonder, then what? What do you do with yourself if you are perfectly content with yourself and your life situation? I think part of the reason we create so many projects for ourselves (renovate the kitchen, lose 10 lbs, obtain a degree, etc.) is an effort to defeat the possibility of boredom. Maybe we create feelings of inadequacy in order to have something to "fix" and AHA! A project is born.

That is pathetic.

There should be only one answer: do what you are passionate about. If you love making music or solving math equations or talking to old people - DO THAT. Do what fills you with joy, intensity, or calm, or whatever you consider a manifestation of your passion. You can have more than one. You can change your mind. But do what stokes that fire within you, DO what contributes to your zest for life.

If you are creative and imaginative enough, you won't have to sacrifice your passion for some dull career you're not interested in but need to pay the bills. If you work at your passion and give 100% effort and think outside the box and do whatever it takes, you will find a way to make it happen. And if you've come to love yourself and be at peace with the workings of the world, your path will be that much easier.

What fills you with that fire? A difficult question, I am sure. What fills you with desire and longing that is not a tangible object? Think hard, think very very hard. And then find a way to make it happen. If the creativity switch in your brain has been switched to "off" for far too long, enlist the aid of others. Get them to help you come up with a solution, an opportunity, anything.

Maybe you want to be a mail man, a nurse, or a nuclear biologist. Maybe you don't want a "job" and you want to create and wander and profess - it doesn't matter - the point is that if you put 100% towards it (have you ever put 100% effort towards any goal?) the only possible outcome is success - it will be achievable (if you don't reach your goal, you haven't tried hard enough or exhausted all options). We are trained and we train ourselves to believe that there are certain things we can't achieve - but this is simply not true. You can achieve ANYTHING, but you have to want it badly enough and devise ways to get there.

And if you do what you're passionate about while accepting yourself and your decision to follow this path, you will be happy.

And that can't be taken away without your say-so.

_________________________________________________

How to Change Your Life

1. Stop buying things that are new. Also, buy quality things to last.
2. Never (this will take practice) do anything unkind, directly, or indirectly, to others. Go out of your way to be considerate and nice.
3. Stop buying things that produce garbage or contribute to landfill.
4. Take 5 minutes out of every day to sit, breathe, and think.
5. Make a point of looking at nature, whether it's a leaf or a mountain.
6. Experience uncomfortable situations and accept them for what they are.
7. But also realize that you're free to leave all and any situations you choose to.
8. Eat foods that your body will recognize. (Hint: your body does not know what the fuck a Doritto is. Eat fruits, veges, dairy, and protein. Even just one vegetable a day can make a difference.)
9. Be the light in someone's day. Get creative about it.


Ask yourself what you'd be doing if you could do anything you wanted.

10. Do that.

Please keep your hands and arms inside the box.

Life.

And so it goes. I find it interesting that I’ve somehow got it into my head that if I can find the perfect mug, my life will be a little bit better. Or infinitely better. It sort of depends on how perfect the mug really is. And why do I need a mug at all, you might wonder? I don’t even drink coffee. Tea though, I do drink tea. Anyways, I need a mug because it is more sustainable, and owning such a thing would not only make me feel like I’m on O.K. terms with the planet, I would look like a tree-hugger earth-lover. And mugs just keep the contents warmer longer. I should clarify, what I need is a “to-go” mug. This means it would have a lid. With a suitable drinking contraption area thing. And a handle. A handle would be ideal. Then, this cannot be any old handled to-go mug. It must be steel, because plastic may or may not one day kill me (#7 plastic, beware of it) and steel is sturdier and superior to plastic… but not as pretty. My cup must also say something about me, and because steel is not especially attractive in its normal state, it would be my greatest hope that the manufacturer would have punched it up a little by tinting it pink or giving it an emblem of some sort.

If I were to own this mug, my life would be greatly improved. But I don’t think it exists. (But searching for it, continuously, obsessively, does give my life a little more purpose to it.)


Hygiene.

Ever go into a public bathroom and wonder to yourself which stall has been the least used? I am horribly unable to “hover” above the toilet seat – thus, I am obviously in search of the seat least contaminated by human bum germs. I walk into the public restroom, and analyze the stalls: front, middle – always a poor choice. It is the easy access stall probably most used for purposes of expediency/dire need. I also think that the very end stalls, on the left or the right, are greatly used as well, for the simple reason that people like me that are concerned with over-used stalls would probably aim for the supposedly least used stall (hence, the furthest away, hardest to get to). This means that the stalls in between the middle stall(s) and the end stall(s) are probably (hopefully) the least used because of the aforementioned reasons.

This suggests that there are no people as obsessively identical in my thought-processes, and that they do not aim for the middle-left or middle-right stalls. Sadly, I eventually come to the conclusion that in large public places thousands of people will use the stalls in their entirety, and there is really no safe way to avoid bum-germs. So I wipe the seat with toilet paper and assuage my fears that way.


Compliments.

Maybe I over-think things, or maybe I’m just really insightful. I haven’t figured that out yet. Regardless, I hate complimenting people. Well actually, I love complimenting people. When I’m at work serving fifty billion nice customers all I want to do is compliment every single one of them. But if I were to do that, if I were to mention to each individual their greatest attribute, feature, or quality – it would lose its weight as a great event. It would be, “Oh. The girl that compliments everyone just paid me a compliment.” The individual would not feel as special, and I would not feel as satisfied.

There are more problems with compliments. There is the chance that they will not take you seriously. To the man who was washing the walls at the hotel, I said (in my head), “You’re doing a really good job with that!” I wished to tell him that in order to encourage him, or make him hate his job less. Because really, how much fun could it be to wash the walls? I myself have had to wash walls, and it sucks. I wanted to sympathize with him. But probably he would’ve taken the comment as facetious and hated me for it. So I refrain.

There’s also the worry that your compliment will not be fully accepted. A friend shows me a work of art and I tell them it’s beautiful, wonderful, inspired! But since I’m their friend and not an impartial stranger, there is no way my compliment will really sink in unless I find a unique and meaningful way of expressing it. This puts a lot of pressure on me. Similar to the pressure one suffers with while trying to express gratitude after receiving a thoughtful gift. With gift-giving, it’s all about the reaction.

I don’t give compliments anymore.


Technology.

I hate my phone. And facebook. And the TV. I hate all technology because it takes me further and further away from the real-life wonders that we could experience if we weren’t too wrapped up in our gameboy, our ipod, our PVR. But I’m addicted. I have to check my e-mail, just in case a professor, a love-interest, or something else equally important shows up.

And I bet you do too.

Die a Little

Ever had the fleeting notion,
That you’re dying in slow motion?

A minute passed warrants no thought,
But lifetimes lost can’t be forgot.


So slowly do we die each day,
That when death comes we plead to stay.