If I Had a Kid…

Yesterday I picked up my friend’s kid from school. It had been awhile since I stepped foot in a Chicago Public School and being such a curious creature, I walked the halls and snapped photos of the cute artwork by the pre-schoolers depicting their family life. So adorable…

 

 

 

 

I was a little surprised and perplexed when bumped into the Obama and Biden cutouts, but being the crazy photo taker that I am, I snapped. Obama is depicted as Super Man, or in this case Obama Man.

 

 

 

 

Poor Joe Biden doesn’t even get a mask.

I don’t have kids, but if I did I would have to tell them that we call this propaganda when China does it….Nothing against Mao.

Passion for Furry Creatures

I can only speak for myself, but there was a time in my life when nothing seemed more important than the health and well being of my pets. I can’t say I was aware of my crumbling faith in humanity, but I do remember when it started. In retrospect I can draw a timeline and correlate the events in my life with adopting another pet. The more detached I felt from humans the more I was able to relate to my furry friends.

I knew I had turned into the crazy ferret girl. I started researching opening a ferret shelter. I visited ferret shelters across the country. I volunteered my time. I nearly got arrested in the name of ferrets. While living in Miami I called the police on a pet store for selling sickly ferrets. The store owner decided he wanted to press charges against me for trespassing. The police said if I didn’t leave they would arrest me. I had to send a friend in the store to buy the ferret in question. I had Shorty for the next five years.

They were like my kids. I had three of them and took them with me whenever I could. I’m talking buying my ferret’s airfare so they could travel with me.

My passion didn’t stop at ferrets. I would attract all species of animals in need. I would feed them all. I was always finding half dead animals. I would bring them home and try to nurse them back to health. When the creature inevitably died I could feel my heart split and bleed in sorrow.

Once I became obsessed over saving a baby fish no bigger than a paperclip. My adult Koi had offspring and this particular fish got some kind of fungus and his eyes fell out. He could not swim a straight line. His little flippers were being eaten away by the fungus and he could barely use them. Somewhere in my mind I convinced myself I could save him. I brought him to the fish store and the vet for advice. I’m pretty sure they thought I was out of my freaking mind, which I was. The fish survived in this eye-less, flipper-less existence for a couple of weeks. I tortured myself by not putting it out of his misery.

My passion for animals filled a huge void. I was so unhappy in every other area of my life. My passion and dedication for my animals gave me a reason to live. They gave me something to look forward to every morning. My experience of love and bonding between humans was killed and I mean killed by the person I loved. The difference between loving a human and an animal are expectations. You can’t have any expectations from an animal; they exist to exist. The problem with loving humans is we have expectations and when they are not fulfilled we are deeply hurt. Animals are a safer bet.

In the peak of my passion for animals, I lived with three cats, three ferrets and a dog. I thought I would die when Shorty passed away. The love and reward I felt for and from that two pound ferret sadly was much more profound than the love I experienced for and from some of my significant others. That little ferret taught me so much about living a passionate life. He had three different cancers, half of a liver, and could outplay any kid or ferret for the last three years of his life. He is, was and will remain one of the heros in my life. I do have faith that one day I will have a human hero to add to my list and that’s the difference between then and now.

What’s Your Passion? Use your Imagination.

Everything about this clip is amazing; The music, the editing, the subject and the thought that went into it all. What happens when the imagination pushes the edges? Something spectacular.
This is so worth the watch.

What’s Your Passion? Art?

I came across this video the other day. This woman is passionate about her art form. She has an audience of people crying as they watch her create an audio-visual experience. It’s hard to fake passion. When you’re really feeling it, people around you are affected; they are moved. For the next 8 minutes stop what you’re doing and watch this performance.

What’s Your Passion?

Are you ever just going along in life and suddenly you look around and realize all the passion has dissipated from your life? It seemed like it was there a while ago…maybe a couple of years ago? Then you think a little harder and realize the last time you experienced passion was way more than a couple years ago; it was like six or seven, maybe even eight years ago! Maybe it was when I woke from the numbness of my own life that I realized one could walk around for years without even realizing that they’re dead. I could not relate when I heard a song that sounded heartfelt; like a love song, or one of those passionate-about-life songs. I didn’t always feel that way about songs, but during this zombie period of my life I actually convinced myself that those songs were written about pets because there was no way someone could actually be feeling that intensely for another human. I imagined a songwriter playing the piano and writing lyrics to their cat or ferret. It made perfect sense to me. The thought of my cat dying made me want to write songs of agonizing passion too.

I don’t believe in karma, but if I did the rules of passion would be this: to every passionate high there is an equally felt low. So this business of passion is not what it’s cracked up to be. It’s safer to be mundane and repetitive doing the same thing, following the same path, taking the same highway, driving the same car, eating the same food, sleeping with the same person. We like predictable; we find comfort and lazy satisfaction in the stagnant. If you don’t expose yourself to the high then you won’t have the low, right? If the karmic laws of passion are true then I have some really nice highs coming my way! We’re talking sublime euphoria or some shit.

Since I don’t believe in karma, I know there is nothing owed to me because of my suffering. I’ll stick with some basic concepts in the human psyche. Like I said, humans like safety and opening yourself to your desires is risky. We humans will not only stay in situations that are safe, we will stay in situations that are killing us, just to avoid the big unknown.

I will be the first to admit that the coziness of my little world is safe and sound. I’ll also admit that I’ve taken some pretty questionable risks in the name of passion. They seemed pretty justified at the time, but most of them were worth it. Sometimes I complain about the crooked lines of my life, but I wouldn’t be me without them. Wasn’t it Popeye who said, “I am what I am”? So feed that burning fire some spinach or whatever it needs.

Why not do the Black Diamonds in the Teton Mountains when you belong on the Bunny Hill? Why not paint that mural? Why not cycle to Florida? Why not write that novel? Why not trade options instead of stock? Why not ask that girl on a date? Why not get on a plane to California for one night of steamy sex? Why not taste every chocolate cake across the country? Or whatever?

Why not?

Free Fall

I am not an avid follower of the field of aviation, but I recently read this story that blew my mind. Just so you know I love using the phrases “Blow my mind,” and “mind blowing.” There aren’t too many instances that call for such phrases, so when something blows my mind, it’s best to just say it.

I was at a friend’s house and I saw this picture of a man jumping out of an aircraft. At first glance I didn’t think anything of it, except, “hmm, that’s cool.” One day I was spacing out looking at the picture and it occurred to me that this jump seemed to be at a particularly high altitude. I don’t know shit about planes or jumping from planes. I just know that the picture looked like a photo taken from a satellite. The clouds appear to be a million miles away. This is definitely not the comfortable cruising altitude that I experience when flying.

“What’s the deal with that picture?” I ask. “That jumper seems unusually high.”

The answer: Project Excelsior

In 1959 to 1960 the United States Air Force ran a series of experimental jumps at high altitude. It was called Project Excelsior. The test involved a helium balloon that could lift a gondola and the jumper into the stratosphere. Have you ever thought about just where the stratosphere is? Most commercial airlines cruise at the lower part of the stratosphere at about 5 ½ miles off the earth’s surface, but the area itself is situated between 6 and 31 miles above the earth’s surface. It’s cold up there. Not only is it cold, the air pressure is not sustainable for human activity. The jumper Joseph Kittinger wore a pressure suit and additional clothing to protect from the severe cold.

 

 

Captain Joseph Kittinger did three test jumps.

Excelsior I : November 16, 1959 @ 76,400 feet. That’s approximately 14 miles off the surface of the earth; which is really high. When his first parachute opens a strap wraps around his neck causing him to spin at 130 rotations per minute. He passes out, but the second shoot auto-opens at 10,000 feet. This sounds like a nightmare and I’m not sure I’d try this again, but some of the more brave among us are excitement junkies or for lack of a better phrase, totally nuts.

Excelsior II : Three weeks following the first attempt, Captain Kittinger is at it again. He successfully jumped 74,700 feet.

Excelsior III : On his ascent Kittinger loses pressure in his right glove causing pain and the inability to use his hand. He decides not to inform the ground crew and continues with the ascent. He jumps at 102,800 feet. The descent took nearly 14 minutes. In freefall he reached speeds up 614 mph. Temperatures were as low as -94 F.

Boards of Canada uses Project Excelsior footage in the music video for Dayvan Cowboy.

If you watch the video, use the full screen option, turn up the volume and enjoy. Amazing.

If I Had a Kid…

For Christmas, I would buy her a shiny new Pole Dance Doll.

Ridiculous and hilarious Pole-dance doll has Mommy Bloggers freaking out (comments on this link are hysterical):

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/sfmoms/detail?entry_id=46687 

 

The Hurricane in my Mind

On August 25, 2005 a hurricane passed over my waterfront home in Miami. It might have been because it was the first real hurricane I had witnessed that I became obsessed with it. I was on-line reading about storms while watching Storm Expert Max Mayfield on television. I studied this hurricane’s every move. After Hurricane Katrina made landfall over southern Florida I had a faint sense of relief thinking that the storm would dissipate. That summer was so hot and the waters of the golf were boiling over the sands: Hurricanes and warm ocean waters are the optimum environment for perfect human destruction.

As I learned about tropical storms the hours after Katrina passed over my home I watched her come back to life over the Gulf of Mexico. I observed the thousands of people seeking refuge along the Gulf Coast. They walked to the Super Dome. It seemed strange to me that you would shelter people in the actual hurricane zone. I told my significant other, “These people are fucked.”

In my opinion, the people going to the Super Dome seemed fucked whether there was a hurricane or not. Living in Miami, I knew that they could be without electricity and running water for days even under category two circumstances. Who was organizing this shit? And what were they thinking? Why wasn’t there a proper plan in place? It was no surprise what would happen if New Orleans got hit by a storm of this magnitude. There were studies and papers written on it. They were available on-line for free. You didn’t have to be Max Mayfield to figure this out.

The night before Katrina made landfall she hung out over the Gulf inching her way. It drove me crazy watching the satellite view of the eye getting tighter and tighter. I went to bed. When I woke I turned on “Hurricane T.V.” which I started calling it because hurricane coverage was on every channel. A reporter came out and standing in the French Quarter said, “Wow, we survived. Everything is all good.”  There were no reports from the other coastal towns yet.

Everyone knows what happened. She transformed the coast to piles of rubble. Then the levees broke and more rubble. I couldn’t stop watching. I couldn’t stop crying.

You might need to understand my situation at the time. I was living in Miami with the man I had been with for eleven years. We didn’t sleep in the same bed and we didn’t sleep at the same time. In fact, we didn’t even see each other. He had his own room where he played video games and did bong hits all day. I don’t really know what else he did? But as far as I know it wasn’t in our relationship agreement. The very sad part was I stopped caring.

I felt really stuck and isolated. I felt like if something terrible happened to me he wasn’t equipped to deal. I felt like I was chin deep in water and debris. I didn’t know it at the time but everything I was seeing on television was being internalized. I just wanted to get in my car and try to help. I’ve always been the type of person who has voiced my opinion when I think something is unfair or unjust, with the exception of, me.

One image has been branded in my mind, and it basically sums up the whole thing for me.

I have studied this photograph. The person floating is obviously wearing a hospital robe, so I am assuming they were disabled or being cared for by someone. The woman has brought food and is pouring water for another helpless being. The juxtaposition of life and death, natural and man-made is incredibly obvious but very moving. I can feel the suffocation, the brink of insanity, the death. I can smell the sewage and rotting bodies.

My life had become New Orleans; stagnant, below sea level, and poorly planned.

I am very protective of the victims of Katrina, so when I hear, “Did you see all that violence?” or “It’s their own fault for living on the coast,” I honestly want to punch them in the head. It is very easy to judge from a distance, how people should and shouldn’t live and behave. Some of us never had and never will have the luxury to make changes.

To be cont.

Miley Rides

Disney teen star Miley Cyrus gets caught up in the latest controversy surrounding pole dancing. At the Teen Choice awards she entered the stage riding a portable pole. The gadget she rode looks suspiciously like the same invention by Poleriders of New York. Although she does paint her portable pole to look like an ice cream wagon. I seriously hope the people at Poleriders got credit and compensation for the use of their idea! For the craziness going on surrounding pole dancing in public places take a look at CNN’s clip.
CNN Pole Dancing

The news giant even says the pedi-cab portable pole was Poleriders original idea.

Hey…I am just trying to expose a possible injustice.

Class Starts Now

The school year begins very soon and to honor this time of year I’m going to conduct a short lesson in poetry. I don’t really spend a lot of time writing or reading poetry, and if I did, I wouldn’t admit it. It’s bad enough my nerd meter has reached its’ height in my life. The last thing I need is for it to get out that I am wearing crooked eye glasses reading Chaucer hanging out with my cats. Who is Chaucer anyway?!

 I do own a couple poetry anthologies and when I’m in a certain mood, I flip the pages. I look for one line in a poem that strikes me. It can strike me in a lot of different ways. It can be the way the line sounds. The way a line feels. The way a line makes me think. It’s always different.

I am a big fan of Emily Dickinson, so I can spend hours reading and analyzing her work. Emily was not a professional poet. She was an amateur who was able to experiment without the opinions or critique from outside editors. Her volumes of writing were not shared with the public until after her death. She did not work in the confines of any particular expectations. She was an extremely gifted poet but she was not a refined poet. Poetry is very mechanical; there are a lot of rules. And it is really hard to pull off!

When I find a line that strikes me I say it out loud, write it down and study it:

I like to see it lap the miles, 
And lick the valleys up.

I like this line because when I read it out loud I can hear the rhythm of the L sound. It has a little beat that gallops in my mind. Without reading the poem any further I imagine a horse running along the edge of a valley. Ahhh, but this poem is not about a horse at all, it’s about a steam locomotive. If I listen real close I can hear the engine pumping the wheels along the track. Repeating the L sound Ms. Dickinson makes very good use of alliteration in this line.

I guess I sing these lines of poetry in my mind as one would sing a song. Sometimes I can’t get them out of my head. Better this than Britney Spears I guess.

In case you are too embarrased to look for lines try repeating one of the following. It will brighten your day.

A Bird came down the Walk-
He did not know I saw-
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

Emily Dickinson

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright

Percy Bysshe Shelley