The little things you notice

I’ve been rereading Cat’s Cradle, for possibly the 4th time, and I just now realized that Newt Hoenikker, and his sister, lived at 4918 North Meridian Street in Indy. How freaky. I spent five months living right down the street, 4801 N. Meridian, Apartment 1201. That’s right…I published my address, stalk it all you want, it’s vacant now. I love stuff like that, the little details you pick up on after reading and rereading your favorite book or watching you favorite movie. Speaking of movies, I watched Fight Club Monday night, and I realize that I knew the ending from the start, but now that I do, it makes the subtle hints that Tyler/the narrator is schizo more evident right from the start.
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Do you ever wonder what happens to the pop music complete flops of the eighties? Surely you do, I mean who doesn’t? I have found the answer after years of study. Most go to Europe, especially the Czech Republic and Belgium, and the rest, the pure and unadulterated crap, get packed up and shipped off to Japan, where they become smash hits. “We are the world” for example, the horrendous collaboration by every eighties artist known to man, is bigger than Britney Spears around these parts. Who ever thought that meshing Bette Midler, Lionel Richie, Kenny Rogers and Cyndi Lauper onto one take of a shit song which simply repeats four, unrhyming lines cerca 4,000 times would ever be popular? Now, I understand that the mix was made to support funding and awareness of poverty and hunger issues in Africa, and that’s great. But I’m pretty damn sure the American populace isn’t THAT excited to help Africa that they’re willing to spend money on something so terrible. They should be paying us to listen to it…I’m surprised there are no class action suits against the record producers for irreparable, psychological damaged caused by repetitive play time of this song. Is it just me, or was the entire production doomed from the start? Someone had a crappy song and thought getting someone big to sing it would sell records, but why stop there, let’s make it for charity, so there’s a few pity buys, and then let’s add every possible artist that’s topped VH1 any time within the past forty years. Diana Ross, Dione Warwick, Willie Nelson, Bruce Springsteen, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder…..no freakin’ way they were serious. So, to make a long story even more unbearable to read, and envision, for two hours yesterday I was forced to listen to my students singing this song over and over, in indecipherable English nonetheless, as they practiced for their choir performance at the upcoming cultural festival. Did you know there’s a video to the song too?…that makes it all better. After the video ends there’s a brief commentary with about five of the singers, and my students decided to dub out the English with Japanese. It felt like an episode of Mystery Science Theatre gone awry. Not good times.

I love the unknown

As I began my morning work routine, checking my four email accounts and clicking on my daily donations to the hunger site, I found that my Butler email no longer works. Do you know what this means? It means it’s official, I am no longer even partially within the realm of the Butler community. That frame of my life has passed and I must move on. But I feel like my brain is atrophying without any form of stimulation over here. I tried one of those Barnes and Noble online courses, a review of Emily Dickinson’s poetry, but yeah, that didn’t work out so well, mainly because of the time difference and my constant dodging of typhoons, but also because I pretty much loathe analyzing poetry. There is a certain beauty in the unknown, allowing some minor quatrain, seemingly devoid of a greater meaning, to repeat without end through the expanse of my memory. There are some things in life that are meant to be appreciated sans understanding. Poetry is definitely one, jazz is another. These few, rare individuals have a gift, the ability to take the every day indescribable emotions we experience and turn the intangible into literature, or music. To make the abstract a little less, to connect at a level deeper than imaginable. To use literary devices to describe the insufferable pain and anguish Plath felt, the breakdown towards insanity no longer seems insane, but rather, normal, even expected, awaited. Improvising with eloquence, describing the abstract so perfectly….that needs no understanding, it should be intrinsic. If you don’t feel a compliance by nature, then move on…quit analyzing and ruining it for the rest of us.

Just for Scott: the mysterious car, encased in barbed wire, yet, somehow, sans dead bodies...I finally checked.

Mira la luna?

For an American the concept of moon watching as a spectator activity is not very popular, or well received, or maybe it's just me. When asked to attend, more like told, the first moon watch of the year I bitched and complained, typical of me. I have a cold that is borderline bronchitis, there is a typhoon on the way, I haven't slept in two months...why would I want to spend a night on a boat along the polluted river watching the moon? But as I have learned, the tasks you most dread often turn out to be those you appreciate the most. Ironically, I never once saw the moon, for a) the boat had a roof and b) the typhoon clouds blocked out all visibility, but I did get to see the famed duck/pelican cross kept on a leash which dives into the water, catches fish, then is brought back to the leash holder which tugs at the leash until the duck coughs up the fish. This is a plausible method of fishing here. Um, okay? It may sound eerie, and indeed it was, but it was surprisingly interesting, but more morbid-curiosity car accident interesting than "Wow, I'll take that bit of info everywhere I go with me" interesting.

Afterwards a few of my coworkers and I sat along the Chikugo River and listened to the musicians just up shore. This is the strange part, there was a Japanese guy playing the dijideroo and two Venezuelans playing the harp and a mandolin. They all played together...talk about a weird combo. The school principal, drunk at the time, thought it'd be a good idea to converse with the musicians between their takes. Seeing as how only one of them spoke Japanese I was brought in to translate. Insanity. Ten years of intensive Spanish training to translate the principals' ramblings, in Japanese, to two Venezuelans, and vice versa. Is my major really going to good use here I wonder? I felt a sense of achievement though, even after only a few minutes of speaking with the band. Like having natives of Spain ask you for directions to Palacio San Telmo, or being able to direct the lost German girl to the Yoshii train station, despite my horrendous German and her inability to speak either English or Japanese. So, one of three majors is panning out to have some practical application...what about the rest?

Is it...could it be...David the Gnome? Nah, just a statue in my neighbor's yard. Try looking at that every morning...CREEEEPY!!!

"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." -- St. Augustine

I subscribe to National Geographic Traveler and the latest issues declares it has found the world’s fifty greatest destinations, though really, it pans out to be more like 48 considering two of hte last few are covered in a thick layer of cheese. In general I thought they were interesting, especially considering how few I’ve actually been to. So, without further a due, and slight fear of infringing upon some tiny print copyright laws, I give you National Geographic’s “50 PLACES OF A LIFETIME” in no particular order other than magazine layout:

1. New York City
2. Barcelona
3. Istanbul
4. Jerusalem
5. Hong Kong
6. Paris
7. Rio de Janeiro
8. London
9. Venice
10. San Francisco
11. Serengeti
12. Canadian Rockies
13. Coral Reefs of Papua New Guinea
14. Venezuela’s Tepuis
15. Australian Outback
16. Amazon Forest
17. The Grand Canyon
18. Galapagos Islands
19. Sahara
20. Antarctica
21. Pacific Islands
22. Japanese Ryokan
23. Boundary Waters (Canada)
24. Seychelles
25. Greek Islands
26. Torres del Paine
27. British Virgin Islands
28. Amalfi Coast
29. Kerala, India
30. Hawaiian Islands
31.England’s Lake District
32. Loire Valley
33. North Island, New Zealand
34. Big Sur
35. Canadian Maritimes
36. Vermont…yeah, um, the whole state of Vermont evidently rivals the wonders of the world
37. Coastal Norway
38. Danang To Hue
39. Tuscany
40. The Alps
41. Taj Mahal
42. Mesa Verde
43. Vatican City
44. Acropolis
45. Petra
46. Machu Picchu
47. The Great Wall
48. Cyber Sapce….wtf? How does this beat out Angkor?
49. Angkor
50. Pyramids at Giza
51. Space…lame

Okay, not sure how I ended up with 51. My fault? NG’s inability to count? Or maybe they don’t really consider space or cyber space destinations….which is my opinion, is pretty accurate considering the ratio of people who have actually traveled to space. What is it, maybe 1,000 to about 6,450,219,806, the world population as documented as of 7/1/04. LAME!!!!

Anyroad, my travels have taken me to 7 of the 51, with one more en route for April. Oddly enough, none of them are in the U.S….I’ve never been to New York, or San Francisco or even Vermont. I’m seriously lacking here. Not even a lousy 10%. Oh well, so National Geographic doesn’t feel my adventures were worthy of publication….maybe I’ll just publish my own 50 places of ¼ of a lifetime.

Shanghai to Beijing anyone?

So, I found a trip through China from April 24-May 8 on Intrepid Travel. The price is reasonable for two weeks worth of accomodations and meals, plus transport between provinces, 1100 USD if I remember correctly.

Here's the advert:
"Shanghai, Zhouzhuang, Suzhou, Xi'an, Terracotta Warriors, Pingyao, Buddhist grottoes, Beijing, Great Wall. Delve into the historical splendours of the Middle Kingdom. Find true depth of history through ancient water towns, amazing archeological finds, classic old world charm in Ming and Qing dynasty towns, Buddhist masterpieces and the many fabulous splendours of imperial Beijing."

Let me know if you're interested. I've got some vaca days coming my way, so I'm pretty much sold. Check out the link, get back to me. You know you want to :)

Capitalism is following me...

iPod induced revelation number 1:
As I walked to the grocery store last week, clad in the last remaining shreds of my Abercrombie high school jeans, Pumas, and Paris hard rock café t-shirt, backpack slung upon my back and iPod in hand, blaring full power, (maybe I am the poster child for American capitalism) it dawned on me that I’ve been compromising myself the entire time I’ve been in Japan. I’ve been living in fear of sticking out, hoping not to fit into the American stereotype I believe most outside cultures to maintain based upon a few sordid Americans. I’ve been trying so hard not so much to fit in, which is damn near impossible, but not to stick out. The truth of the matter is, I do. It can’t physically be avoided, I’m going to get stares, funny questions, talked about to a point of inducing perma-paranoia. So why should I restrain myself from singing in the grocery store, or dancing the streets, using my usual slang or dressing as I normally do? If they’re going to point and stare, I’d rather it be due to my singing in public and dancing in the streets than the trite fact that I’m an American. I’d rather be unique in MY mannerisms than my perceived and judged culture.

iP od induced revelation number 2:
The Japanese need to learn to live. Riding the train to Kurume yesterday, iPod once again in hand, I swaggered to the individual rhythms of each song, until “Ride” by The Vines began to play. I instantaneously envisioned the Japanese university students, clad in their uniforms, to bust out into the iPod commercial dance, break dancing between the aisles of old people and pregnant ladies. Flashing neon lights, flying hair, mass chaos and entertainment. Alas, there was no dancing, no bright lights, no swaying hair or bodies, no signs of livelihood at all. Just some quiet students riding to school in silence and a smelly guy next to me invading my seven inches of personal space.

I was devastated. I was relying upon them for some train entertainment, and to distract everyone from looking at the main attraction….gaijin (me.) It was a sad, sad experience. The only place the Japanese will ever dance is in my imagination…and there they rock pretty hard core.

What is and what never should be

I think it’s funny that people write about their lives in third person. Funny that they write about their lives at all really. They comment on infinitesimal details of one day that comprise 1/27,375th of a lifetime (on a scale of 75 years.) They categorize themselves, their interests, their lives as if they‘re some controlled constant in an experiment. I myself fall into such a category, as I assume most do.

Doesn’t it strike you as odd that we personify our lives, give them, life, for lack of a more fitting word? We characterize them, lump them into modes and moods and manners, but jeezy creezy, how can you describe/categorize/define a life that is, at most, 1/3 complete (given the standard span of life.) We say “it’s the story of my life” as if our lives are over, finite, and there is nothing we can do to change them. But they change every day, in the smallest of ways, ways not visible to the naked eye. I’m guilty of summarizing my life, of making premature statements on the basis of a few years. When I’m 80 I’ll have more justification or basis of comparison for using the phrase “my life.” But for now, I apologize.

It reminds me of high school for some reason. Senior year, organizing your portfolio for grading. Perusing through works written over the past four years, shuddering in disgust at your writing style, poor vocab, and plethora of creative writing devoid of any creativity. If a person can change one aspect of their academic persona in a matter of four years, how much does the individual change in a lifetime? And how much of that change is by way of outside forces rather than some self-aggrandizing plot to mature intellectually? If on my deathbed I reread this post, how stupid will I think I was to go on and on about the little things that perk my interest on a daily basis? Will I again shudder in disgust at the things that were?

"A simple child, that lightly draws its breath, and feels its life in every limb, what should it know of death?" - Wordsworth

Someone once told me they were conscious of their mortality. Can this be? Can you ever truly be aware of the fact that one day you will simply cease to exist? If we can’t predict the time or manner of our death, the specifics, can we be cognizant of anything more than the semantics of death. Only the deceased are aware, in my opinion. I will never know what it’s like to die, for once I am dead, that’s it, I'm gone, and I'm never coming back...no worries.

I have a friend who’s afraid of the concept of death. She can’t accept the fact that upon that fateful day she will stop, completely, and return to the earth, to fertilize a plot of land for years to come. I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t care that once I’m dead I’ll be in the ground. Does it matter? I won’t be aware of my surroundings, so should I fret now that for eternity my skeleton will exist apart from the metaphysical me I’ve put so much time and energy into?

No, I don’t fear death. To fear death is to neglect life...to neglect the countless possiblities that still lie in our hands or slightly out of reach. I presume that the fear of death is nothing more than the disastisfaction with the life lived and presumption that the future should hold little more of benefit.

I only ask that I be cremated and my organs donated, should they be intact. Oh, and that Bob Dylan play at my funeral…granted he escapes the elusive concept of death to play his guitar immortally.

"Too busy with the crowded hour to fear to live or die." - Emerson

I make a to-do list everyday, every day, without fail. I rarely accomplish everything on the list, but at least it provides some kind of organization to my life. A while back I decided to take the list one step further, a list of things to do before I die. The funny thing is, the list is made up more like a check list, a compilation of everything I must do in order to die, as if I shall live forever, basking in immortality, should I falter in accomplishing every last minute task on my list. And now that I've peaked your interest, or just wasted a few moments of your oh so precious time spent perusing peoples boring lives, I'll enlighten you.

1. travel through Russia via the Trans-Siberian Railway
2. finish learning Russian...I have a weird fetish with ruskys
3. teach on semester-at-sea
4. earn at least one doctorate...probably political science
5. adopt a child (yeah, I know)
6. publish one piece of nonfiction and one photograph
7. advocate for the ICC, Leonard Peltier (look him up) and Tibetan freedom
8. give one nationally televised speech to conquer, or simply heighten, the fear of public speaking
9. read at least 1,000 books (inspired by a friend)
10. skydive
11. run a marathon
12. visit every continent (including Antarctica)
13. thru-hike the AT (Appalachian Trail)
14. learn the flags, capitols and geographic locations of every country in the world
15. learn to play the violin

So...that might take me a while, but I don't plan on bitin' the bullet any time soon......hopefully. Anything I'm missing? The original list topped off at 22, all around lucky number, but it's lost and gone forever in the abyss that is the other side of the world.

Bungalows in outer space, horrid slaps across the face

The first two weeks of teaching have been dedicated to my self introduction; delivering a speech approximately 15 minutes in length, interspersed with pictures of my family and friends, to the first grade in hopes of peaking their interest in the English language. I give my shpeel, then Shiwa-san translates the fundamental concepts back to the kids, cause honestly, they speak about 2 words of English combined among the 36 students. The problem is, Shiwa-san's English isn't that great either. Basic information I've thrown at the kids is being distorted like a juvenile game of telephone. A picture of my family in St. Croix has been translated into "my family owns a house in the Carribean, where we spend three weeks each year over Christmas." I was told to never contradict or correct the professional teacher in a classroom, so I let it slide. But these kids are getting such a distorted view of Americans...because in Japan, one American is the basis of criticism for the entire American race, if there truly is such a thing. If I play soccer, then every American plays soccer. If I have my nose pierced, then I hate to tell you this, but so do you, so get used to it. This is sheer insanity, but for your reading pleasure, I introduce to you a land where the grass is blue, the sky is purple, we're all expert trapeze artists, fluent in the art of juggling, and once a year our families bugalow in outer space...you've heard of us, we're Americans!

Wow, what is the world coming to?

On a slightly related note, you'll never guess what I saw yesterday..........................you ready?......................okay, a teacher hit a student. Yup, I couldn't believe it either. It gets better, the kid is a special education student, which is the equivalent of mentally handicapped, yet still coherent enough to attend regular classes. It was terrible, I can't believe I didn't break down and quit right on the spot. I'm not a huge fan of kids, especially when they're past the cute stage, but there is no justifying slapping a special needs student right across the face in plain view of anyone and everyone. Not that in private would be any better, but you understand. Technically such discipline is not permitted in the schools, but evidently it's accepted and no one seems to care. What? Excuse me, WHAT?!?!?! How can slapping a student not of a completley sound mind EVER be acceptable?

A) What the hell are you thinking?
B) He's handicapped.
C) What the hell are you thinking?
D) You're a P.E. teacher for fuck's sake. What'd he do? Drop the ball instead of "gently placing it in the bag?"
E) WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING???????

I don't get it. I just don't understand how anyone can sit back and not say anything to this shithead of a teacher in defense of the student. I'm a pretty passive person, unless you choose to have sex in my parents bed (and then I blow up,) but if I spoke Japanese, or he spoke English , I would have had a few choice words for this guy. So that's it....this officially starts my conversation strike with What'shisname-san, thus demanding the creation of a shit list.

My little corner of the world

Do you ever worry that technology is going to render us obsolete?

MXC or bust

Question of the moment: Do they allow foreigners on Most Extreme Elimination Challenge?

Nostalgic im convo of the moment:
Lizzymce: did i tell you about the best man?
HoagieL: don't believe so
Lizzymce: so i went to my cousin's wedding
Lizzymce: out west
Lizzymce: at the end of july, and i made out with the best man in the woods during the reception
Lizzymce: and then i spent the night at my cousin's house with the best man and told my parents i was staying with my sister & brother
HoagieL: ha ha ha. your stories never disappoint me.
Lizzymce: that's not the best part
HoagieL: it gets better?...better than the best man? can there be better than best?
Lizzymce: there's two best parts
Lizzymce: best part #1: his name is howard
Lizzymce: best part #2: he's 31
HoagieL: ha ha ha. who is actually named howard?
Lizzymce: only 80 year old men & this guy
Lizzymce: my roommate katie wrote a haiku about it
Lizzymce: i'll recite it to you
Lizzymce: “the master”
showin' off smooth moves
family party hook-up
is your name howard?

Nostalgic im convo of the moment's link to present:
Lizzymce: so the best man sent me an e-mail
Lizzymce: he said "i miss your pretty smile and your playful laugh"
Lizzymce: he's such a dork!
Lizzymce: i think i can't stand him!

Lemmings

There was a point in my life when I believed my idealist self would be replaced by a realist, and to some degree it has, though not quite to the level I’d assumed. In short, I was idealistic enough to believe that our government had the potential to change. New leadership was all that was needed. Leaders with a true sense of purpose, an honest interest in the rights of man, not afraid to tackle difficulties. There’s a side of everyone that believes they could be the change the world needs. If only the right people in office could see the world as I do there’d be no war, no distrust, no economic monopolies leading politics rather than the people.

I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong. I spent too much time wasting away in a Senate office, slaving for the man, giving of myself for a noble (at first glance) cause, and for what? All I got in return was the truth. That Senators are nothing more than suits, navy with red ties, wholeheartedly accepting the respect and privilege that comes with their leadership while doing little to earn that respect. CSPAN proves my point. On an average day on the Senate floor how many members show up to debate legislation? At most, two. The most ardent supporter (the author usually) and the one other member there simply for the sake of debate…usually Ted Kennedy. Come time for the vote Senators file in, one by one, take roll call, shout out a yea or nay, and return to their offices to schmooze other influential leaders. How can you make a decision based upon pre-debate, premature assumptions? When legislation hits the floor, no matter the subject, the lemmings in Senate offices take a stance, and stick to it, based upon party politics. Maybe it’s just me, but shouldn’t you READ the legislation first, consider your constituents needs and wants prior to joining your party on the issue?

It’s disheartening to know the truth. That a Senator does nothing. They have a well-staffed office preparing cup upon cup of coffee, running errands, drafting legislation, making and canceling appointments with prime ministers and ambassadors galore, doing the real dirty work, keyword work, behind the façade of a respectable Senator. You could replace individual Senators with robots, controlled by the thirty or so staff responsible for their success and a party chip which prohibits them from committing adultery to their partisan politics. It makes no difference who wears the suit, what state they represent, all that matters is party loyalty.

Furthermore, I have given up ALL hope of ever seeing a “common man” in office. Ironically enough a monkey could do the job of a senator, but that monkey would have to be oratorical, able to feign intelligence, wealthy, and if a female, able to guarantee she runs against a complete moron if serious about winning. It takes a shitload of money to even run for office…so there goes the common man. Anyone with enough money to run is not common, they passed that mark a long time ago. And when you’ve got that much dough in your pockets, you’re going to be influenced by economic decisions, tax breaks, monopolistic corporations, rather than the meager lemmings who voted you into office under false pretenses.

In short, I don’t want to be a Senator anymore. It’s a sham. A total sham. Real nobodies slave away in little offices to make a senator great, when in reality, they’ve got more going on upstairs than the robot in the suit. All the while, the Senator walks around like royalty, not responding to anything other than sir, or senator, making lame diplomatic compliments to the media which further their approval ratings, when in reality, they are the nobodies. It kills me. Twenty years ago they could have been slaving just like their staff, in some little office with a meager salary and killer rent. But now, they’ve made it, and rather than remembering the struggles they faced to make it big, cutting the world some slack, staying true to their roots, they give everyone else crap for calling them mister.

Instead, I’ve decided to become a nuclear physicist.

There's beauty in the breakdown

Lately I’ve been searching through my profile, clicking on my interests and favorite books to find other blog users with similar interests. And here’s what I’ve come to realize:

I am a either

A) A middle-aged, balding, single male, living in either Canada or the United Kingdom, hoping to publish my poetry and achieve one-hit wonder-dom
B) A recent graduate of some Philippine technical institute with a degree in lamp-making
C) A 19 year old male Aries obsessed with the concept of cubical privacy and virtual girlfriends
D) A hamster

Is this me?

Am I really this weird?

Are my interests truly this anomalous? You guys are the same right? RIGHT?

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You may have noticed I started a recommendation section. It’s mainly a collection of my favorites at the moment. However, Garden Sate, the new film by Zach Braff, hasn’t actually been reviewed by yours truly. But I’ve seen the trailer and several people have recommended it to me, so I’m passing the buck. Keep in mind, cinema here is about 8 months behind the U.S., so I probably won’t have a chance to view the movie until I return home….so tell me all about it.
Oh, and check out The Motorcycle Diaries as well. Let me know if it stays true to the book.

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I think I enjoy spider solitaire more than any human has ever enjoyed a solitary computer card game. Chimpanzees on the other hand, enjoy solitaire much more than humans could ever grasp.

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I have a thick plastic sheet covering my desk. It’s yellowed with age and sun exposure to the point that all of my pictures shining up from underneath now look vintage….as if I lived through the 70’s Polaroid explosion when all film was tinted a mix of sienna and butter that’s creepily reminiscent of my grandmother smoking incessantly on a Sunday afternoon in the parlor. A combo of mid-day sun, a smoky haze, the musty smell of senior citizens and that gaudy shade of paint that decorated the walls….a shade I thought was only allowed on refrigerators…evidently I was mistaken.

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I have a jail bail buddy....how sweet is that?!?!

We all live under the same sky...

...mine just seems to hate me more than yours.

So, how did Lauren spend her Tuesday?
a) teaching all the little kiddies English
b) on vaca exploring the unseen Japan
c) holed up in a closet with no provisions other than a flashlight and a bottle of water

If you guessed a, b or d, none of the above, do not pass go and do not collect $200.
If you guessed c, you’re right! You may skip ahead two places.

So that’s it. I spent the good portion of my Tuesday holed up in my closet, the only area of my house devoid of windows. The third typhoon of the season passed through town, causing all kinds of mass chaos and confusion. And let me just say, it was fuck all scarier than anything I’ve ever experienced. By the end of the day my ceiling was leaking, chunks of my roof had blown into my backyard, my bike was nowhere to be found and the mailbox evidently eloped with the bike. I had no water, no power, no nothing. Good times. Now I know why they tell you to fill your tub up for drinking water. I’m still not biting though, that tub is schkeevy.

And the best part…..school wasn’t cancelled! Nope. Naturally not. They expected me to ride my bike to school, braving gusts of winds capable of knocking down trees, holding a flashlight in one hand and an umbrella in the other, all while dodging shrapnel. This is not Pac-Man. I do not dodge. Especially not natural disasters. So I took a holiday. Yup, a day of holiday wasted in the closet…talk about ass suckage.

In order to cause a shadow to disappear, you must shine light on it.

What do McCauly Culkin, Senator McCain, and Professor Bubba have in common? Well, they all successfully wowed two classrooms full of Japanese jr. high students today during my introduction. Hard to believe my first two classes are over. The stress is over. The heat, not over. But I’m glad it played out like it did. I can’t even begin to divulge into the differences that abound between jr. high students here and back in the states. And how sad is it that all I really have to go by is my own experience in a Catholic school nonetheless. These kids are perfect, disciplined, structured beyond belief. While presently beneficial in terms of behavior and studies, in the future it only serves to drain them of true individualized personalities and interests. But you can’t change the world in a year, and attempting to reshape a culture shouldn’t be within anyone’s aims…it seems immoral to some degree.

Take missionaries, for example. I understand the rallying call to want to witness to cultures devoid of religious knowledge and fanfare. But part of each separate culture is the unique spiritual and religious essence to which only they adhere…whether that religion falls into the category of Christianity, Judaism, or atheism, for that matter. A respectable Christian wouldn’t make the long trek to Israel to witness and convert the Jewish masses, or even the Muslim masses…and not just because the Israeli/Palestinian conflict is beyond all possible hopes of ethnic stability and cultural acceptance. But rather, because they accept a monotheistic faith, believe in one god, whether his name be Allah or Yahweh. Who are they to claim that their monotheistic faith is any more credible than the Taoist beliefs, or Hinduism with it’s multiple gods, or even ancient Indian religions linking gods to natural entities and such? No one can make that call.

A few years ago I was attending church with my parents, as I used to do, though not of my own accord, and my father was offering up money to missionaries who had come to collect. They took annual missions trips to rural Africa (I ask, what parts aren’t rural, save South Africa) to preach and convert the non-believers, and by that they mean non-believers of a mono-theistic faith, into believers of Christ, whether they like it or not. When will we stop? When the entire world is white, believes in God, stops at McDonald’s on the way home from mass before heading home to a 2.5 child family in the suburbs? Africa is not the west in this screwed up Christian manifest destiny. They’re not us, they’re never going to be us, and even if we shape them in our image, force our culture upon them and beat them into coercion, it’ll always be off. It’s a different culture. Quit trying to assimilate the differences which make us unique and instead accept the divergences for what they are. There’s beauty in the idiosyncrasies and imperfections, the differences and the similarities.

What good is international travel if every city looks like the next, if all cultures maintain the same beliefs and practices. That’s bullshit, I say. More importantly, is Christianity really the end-all-be-all of necessity to Africa. Their problems are more innate, social, defensive, rather than spiritual. When the Wolof tribe is battling all out war against the Fulanis in Senegal, will it matter if they believe in god? When children are kidnapped or enslaved and used as soldiers, committing atrocities of genocide, will they stop to pray for a burial befitting a fellow man? When a family living in Tanzania loses another child to famine, or aids, will god look upon them any differently?…make their suffering any less? Doubtful. You can believe it if you want, and, in all honesty, it’d be easy to believe it, at least a little more hopeful than acknowledging death is death, it’s every man for himself, and our fate is what we make of it instead of some divinely woven pattern which rarely incorporates free choice.

Anecdote time. As part of my peace and conflict studies concentration, yeah, I’m REAL diverse, I took a religions of the world class as well as a class on war, peace and religion. It’s amazing the dissent profs came across when explaining Buddhist beliefs, or the Tao, even Judaism. (This was the predominantly Republican, Christian, Midwest, mind you.) We’d have discussions for days about Bible passages, controversial topics to Christians, mainly capital punishment and abortion, euthanasia, etc. You could tell who the Christians were. Always on the defensive, as if the mere discussion of Allah or the Qu’ran might make them less of a believer. Learning about varying religious beliefs doesn’t diminish your own beliefs, or limit them in any way. Quite the contrary. In accepting other religious practices as in existence, and mutually in the right, you’re strengthening your own beliefs through knowledge. If you can listen to the arguments which comprise Confucianism and solemnly say you don’t agree, then haven’t you chosen your own religion over another? You’ve learned the ways of another and chosen your own. Acceptance based upon ignorance is juvenile.

When we were young we were taught that the sky is blue. I never questioned that, blue is blue. Only now do I question, what is blue…just a word? And, furthermore, what’s blue to you is seen differently through eyes of the colorblind, or any other person for that matter. How do I fully accept blue as the color of the sky if I don’t compare it to green, or pink, or burnt sienna? It’s acceptance by elimination. The dressing room of spirituality, if you will. Trying on a pair of Bhagavad Gita Levis or a Talmud blouse. Only then will you find the perfect fit.

I ask you, does milk REALLY do a body good?

Free milk at school = good
Free 8.3% milk at school = bad
Throwing up that 8.3% milk 3 times in the span of one hour = torture


Break from work to play outside = good
Wearing all black to play outside = bad
Wearing all black, playing outside, in massive heat wave = worse
Passing out in front of 800 students, all of your co-workers AND the principle = WORST MOMENT OF MY LIFE

In a nutshell, it's been a bad day.

I saw karma and the devil walking side by side

So I’m here, doing some thinking, often dangerous, rarely productive, and my thoughts drifted to my poor juggling skills….no, not really, I rock, no seriously, I lie. I was thinking about the whole process of creation and what the process entails in terms of the authority of the creator over the creation. You and I make something we’ve got all the rights in the world to smash it to bits, blow it up, set it on fire, etc. But if what two people create is another life, they then relinquish all worldly rights to destroy that life without possible jail time, if convicted. This emphasizes the importance and sanctity of human life…justifiable.

But if that human then takes the life of another human, we’ve got another party to add, THE STATE…duh duh duh. Getting’ a little crowded, don’t ya think? The state feels that it has a right to exact revenge on behalf of the now deplete human life, the victim, by taking the life of the still thriving in stripes and chains human. If the parents don’t have the right to kill the child, their earthly creation, where does the state get off thinking it has the right? Who died and made the justice system responsible for life and death, other than the victim?
It seems to me, and maybe I’ve just gone insane, that if anyone should have the earthly right to take away life, shouldn’t it be the parents? That doesn’t mean that there aren’t going to be offenders of justice who continue to murder, even though only the divine creator and the earthly parents would theoretically have such a right. We’ve proven that already, murder continues on a daily basis, even though technically only the creator (and by that I mean god/time-in the sense of natural death) has the right to take away life. So, on the playing field, if you’re an atheist or agnostic, like so many of us are, to you, the only people allowed to take away life are NOBODY!!!!!…unless you agree with state practices of capital punishment. But seriously, think about it. The rights of the creator on earth are deplete, smiting by the hands of god went out of style long ago, leaving murder and capital punishment the only forms of taking away life. Does that put them on the same plane? Good question. If we’re gonna go all crazy and actually allow murder, don’t you think the hierarchical field should look something more like:

DIVINE CREATOR - ultimate authority in taking away life
+
PARENTS - earthly creators and care givers, can take away life if they deem fit, or have gone insane, we seem to be okay with that
+
And THEN…………..

THE STATE - damn the man for believing he has a say in everything anyway

**Whereby, Tier 1, the divine creator, may be removed and replaced with Tier 2, the parents, dependent upon religious affiliation.**

Doesn’t that seem more appropriate? Why should the state always be first? What did they actually do in the whole process of conception?…nada. That’s right. They’ve got no rights. Or at least they shouldn’t. And in conclusion, if the state continues to believe that it holds the right to degrade and destroy the sanctity of a life, whether criminal or not, shouldn’t it then allow the parents undeniable access to abortion facilities, for that would then keep in line with the hierarchical creation/destruction process.

In conclusion, other than I think I’ve gone crazy, I think capital punishment is a crock. If human rights aren’t your thing, look at it from a monetary perspective. The prospect of incarcerating a criminal for the rest of his life, whether that be 5, 10, or 80 years, would be cheaper than following through with our antiquated justice system and putting him/her on trial and then to death by either electrocution or lethal injection. Craziness. Furthermore, following a cost-benefit ratio, is the cost worth the benefit?…all people die…does it matter if it’s today or in 5 years for a criminal, it’s not like they’re really going anywhere other than federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison. Besides, how fucked up is it that one man’s benefit is another man’s death? If that ain’t the kicker.