It takes a village

Many persons know the story of the swallow which had entangled its claw, by some means, in a piece of thread fastened to a spout on the wall of the Collége des Quatre Nations, at Paris. Its strength being exhausted, the bird hung at the end of the thread, which it kept raising in the endeavours to fly, uttering plaintive cries. All the swallows from between the Pont des Tuileries and Pont Neuf, and perhaps still further, gathered together, to the number of some hundreds, all uttering cries of pity and alarm. After some hesitation and a tumultuous conference, one of them seemed to have found a means of delivering their unfortunate companion, and no doubt communicated it to the others. They placed themselves in order, and each coming in turn, struck the thread with the beak, somewhat after the fashion of ’tilting at the ring.’ These thrusts, aimed at the same point, succeeded each other every moment, and greatly incommoded the poor captive; but in a short time the thread was severed, and the poor bird set at liberty! The flock remained till night, chattering all the time; but in a tone which had nothing of inquietude, and was expressive only of mutual congratulation.

– Ernest Menault, The Intelligence of Animals, 1869

retrieved from: http://www.futilitycloset.com/2012/03/15/it-takes-a-village/

i am alive.

Life. I love being alive. Of all the trillions of sperm and billions of eggs available during the time of any conception, the eventual interdependent amalgamation is statistically infinitesimally improbable. Following fertilization we still struggle making it unscathed towards the light of existence.

But here we are.

We were the sperm with the strongest tails, the highest-octane mitochochondria; the egg whose fallopian flight best descended to the integral location for a genetic chest bump.

Regardless of your religious options, adoption, upbringing in thinking or plowing fields with oxen I rate this the greatest knowledge that led me to the edge of existential appreciation.

The opportunity to be conscious, to feel with our fingertips the grits of sand crashing and passing the crests of our fingerprints, to have a skin color and bodily imperfections; the opportunity of opinion to have a favorite anything, to type a poem in a periodic sonic environment of on-beat clocks ticking off-beat with one another. It is simply miraculous that we get to breathe. There is probably a better chance of winning the lottery every day of your life than being alive in the first place.

I don’t know if it’s possible to NOT exist… But isn’t it cool that we …do?

Do I need another awful Girlfriend?

Like photographs we develop from the negatives, snapshots of moments project opportunities for maturation to sub the subconscious for the conscious process of contemplation, rumination on the who, why, and how.

I know my growth was most evident following time spans prevalent with flavors of pain. Of course, one cannot see the galaxy of one’s experience from the vantage point of the sun, one must travel the space-time continuum to absorb the curriculum provided by the orbiting dramas of your satellite discomforts.

These eras of pain-induced education often correlated with an obvious situation we have all experienced… dating. I refuse to assume that I have had worse relationships than the average man woman or child, but the few extended liaisons I have endured have grated my patience and confidence, frayed threads peeled from an emotional string cheese, and left me in a timid vacuum from which I greeted growth in self control and maturity in order to confidently escape.

Please understand that I am thankful for those times… regardless of the argumentative or sexual buying and selling that led the Dow industrial to rapid recessions. Put differently: the superfluous negative qualities of the high density (low quantity) quandaries of my long term relationships greatly accelerated my growth into my present self.

As I was running in a cold wind back home, I was considering my current state of being. It has been almost two years since my last lasting love connection, parallel rivers and streams of infatuation, sex, and abhorrence running into a nearly dry tributary of patience, and I feel my personal progress has become lethargic, flowing slowly without fuel from stress and compromise; my lack of coital instigation stagnating to stagger my stag bachelor behavior.

Then I realized an obvious solution to my educational deceleration: I need another awful girlfriend;

another traumatic relationship to help me reach the next level of potential. I need a renewed disappointment for the transition from “It’s so funny when she…” to “OMG I hate it when she…” I need an impetus to drop all of my friends and disappear for a few months, only calling when my partner is busy or angry. I need a bedmate about whom I will complain incessantly, until someone suggests I end things, after which I will only sing praises of her awesome-nity. My growth like an oak from being choked up fortnightly, for realizing I rightly assessed a problem with honesty. My hurt would not be wasted; the vast benefits of practicing communication and/or co-inhabitation with a complete bitch and/or idiot would not only make me a better future partner, but a stronger human being!

This is obviously not the ONLY way to achieve personal growth… but it is definitely one of the most efficient ways to really learn about one’s true needs, and what one is actually willing to put into a relationship.

So, if any of you have a friend who would be awful for me, hook us up.

Why lie? Act I

I figure there are two and a half major types of lying:

Type #1: Lying for the sake of the LIAR

Type #2: Lying for the sake of the INDIVIDUAL TO WHOM THE LIE IS TOLD

Type #2.5 Lying for the sake of a NON-PRESENT INDIVIDUAL

Now, there is a big umbrella with these categories:
It seems to me that most people think they are lying for the sake of another individual. How many of these people are really lying for the sake of his or herself?

The perfect example is the act of cheating on a partner. In this situation, the cheater often has the pressure of possibly ending what may be a desired relationship through telling the truth. I have discussed this issue with a small sample of transgressors; cheaters often express that they are doing their partner a favor by lying about their unfaithfulness. The cheater believes that they are type #2 lying; they are lying to not cause distress and pain to their partner. I believe* that in most situations these individuals are in actuality 'type #1 lying' by not admitting their exploit, and 'type #2' lying to their OWN SELF to believe that this is not in actuality a predominantly self-centered act. They are lying to avoid the pain of hurting the feelings of their partner, the guilt of their act, the possibility of 'breaking up', the possible loss of a best friend and/or sexual partner, etc. They are lying because it is EASIER to bear coping with the possibility of internal guilt for a single act than to weather with the consequences of the actions being known.

I tend to be fairly black and white when it comes to honesty. I do not believe in lying, and I do not do it without great reason (generally, the responsibility for someone outside of myself). However, I have not been able to logically understand why I feel this way.

Why does truth matter? There are countless situations in which not knowing the truth would save great distress. We have ideas of it being inherently "right" to be truthful, or that we "owe" it to others to be honest. However, confusingly, none of these strike me as being fully legitimate reasons. I cannot logically explain why I should be so polar on my feelings on lying.

In the earlier example, the cheater could possibly feel a level of self-sacrifice for bearing the guilt of their act and not telling their partner the truth. I cannot truly justify this as being wrong. I absolutely disagree with the sentiment, but I cannot explain why.

As a personal example, I once had a partner tell me, "If I ever got pregnant, I would just get an abortion and not tell you; I don't think you could handle it." This clearly sparked a discussion. But, was she right? In my opinion, absolutely not.

I know maxims are cliche, but I fully believe in the concept that "we are like photographs: we develop from the negatives." By lying to avoid and/or appease pain we are not only perpetrating a moral offense through the act, but we are enacting the greater misdeed of stifling the growth of each involved individual. Through dishonesty, we are stealing opportunities to increase the potential and capacity of experience.

There are many arguments at this point about which I do not have time to write. However, I just want to point out this is my personal philosophy, and I fully recognize that it may be mine alone. I do not believe that I am "more moral" or a "better person" for these personal rules. I find that understanding one's 'moral guidelines' is kind of like being vegan: by having specific rules it allows one to feel a greater level of independence and control.

*I am always open to the possibility of being swayed to another opinion, or simply changing my mind. My use of "blanket" or "black and white" statements should be read as "based on my experience thus far I choose to believe xyz until I discover or am convinced of otherwise"

Cars

Cars must be so lonely, they never get to touch one another. When they do, it's called an accident.

If they ever wanted to hug, or kiss, people would get upset and file insurance claims.

I don't think I could survive, being a car.

Impulse buy

I don't need you. I don't think about you. But... you're in front of me, on sale, and all of a sudden you are a necessity. I put you in my shopping cart, walking towards check out, trying to convince myself whether or not I actually REALLY need you. I decide to take one more lap around the store before I pay for my items. I remove self control and put it back on the original shelf, I drop a few shallow ego boosts into the "child seat" section of the cart. I get to the check out shelf, and glance at the magazine covers and articles that are solely there for the folks who impulsively decide they need gum, or batteries, or want to pay non-subscription price for magazines about soap opera, the Kardashians, or new sex positions your boyfriend will love!

I throw a 3-pack of mint gum on the conveyor belt along with everything else, and go home.

Life is backwards

“The whole scheme of things is turned wrong end to. Life should begin with age & its privileges and accumulations, & end with youth & its capacity to splendidly enjoy such advantages. As things are now, when in youth a dollar would bring a hundred pleasures, you can’t have it. When you are old, you get it & there is nothing worth buying with it then. It’s an epitome of life. The first half of it consists of the capacity to enjoy without the chance; the last half consists of the chance without the capacity.”

– Mark Twain, letter to Edward Dimmitt, July 19, 1901