I keep you close to my heart, always.
It's not the same without you, and it never will be. Words cannot describe how much I miss having you in my life, through the good times and the bad. You were always there for me, no matter what you had going on. You never criticised my tears, or called me names, or put me down.
Your humour was your way of showing how much I meant to you. And my retorts were my way of saying I wanted to grow up to be the person you became as my grandfather.
You never denied me the affection and love I didn't get from my father. You never denied me your attention when I needed it. You taught me about yourself, and about what goes on in my own head.
You loved me every day, didn't you? I know I love you, even though we're not together in the same lifetime. But one day, we'll meet again. And I'll run to your arms as fast as I can, and be the happiest little girl in the universe again.
You're still the centre of my world. And I can only hope that you're proud of anything I strive to do, and I know that when I'm down, you're holding my hand and whispering to me that I'll be okay. All I need is time.
I'll never forget you. I promise.
~Sam.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Existential Apathy
I get rattled by conversations involving politics. Not sure why.
Something about the gross...intellectual decomposition caused by politics bugs me. What's worse, is it's not even the politicians I can't stand anymore. It's the mouths of the voters that piss me off.
Think about it. You get your basic angry working-class Joe, who listens to the news making negative spin after negative spin on ye olde politician. And all this little Joe will do is bitch and moan over how terrible the world is growing to be. And after someone says "Why don't you do something about it?" they're met with the redundant response;
There's nothing I can do about it.
It sure as hell feels like there isn't, but I will admit that if someone out there is willing enough, and brass-balled enough to step in front of a mass media source and scream "This world is going to shit, and it's your fault because you're lazy," I'll be right behind them. Fuck, I'd do it myself if I knew where to start.
Maybe I should.
People need to suck up their inadequacies and start thinking about the world around them. Pull the stick out of your ass, and the gauze out of your ears, and listen to your surroundings. Listen to what other people think.
It's damn hard to do, I'm well aware. But it's not a matter of changing the world in a day. Never was. Just make little changes here and there, and watch as the little steps grow into big results. But before any of that can be done, the quintessential foundation needs to be laid;
Pay attention.
There's nothing you can do well with false or incomplete information. And this is the biggest problem being faced today. People will look no further than the information they want to hear, information that validates their opinion and makes them seem smart in the eyes of someone else, if only for that brief stint of a coffee-shop conversation.
Hypocrisy blooms constantly in this day and age. Promises made that will likely never be kept, ideas that are only half-founded and then promptly contradicted or reversed for fear of persecution, and ignorant fools sitting behind the television taking every word anyone says at face value. The metaphor is losing its flair in favour of literalist interpretations. Nobody wants to think for themselves anymore.
This is not the freedom the dead soldiers fought for. This is not the world the Renaissance scholars strived to create.
This is the world where the biota has become robotic. Pre-programmed opinions governed by corporate labels and anger/scare tactics, controlled by the minds everyone's mad at, but too afraid to push against. The human mind is a beautiful thing, and it's being fashioned into little more than it's own egocentric universe.
Sure, we still question everything. But does it count as questioning if it's never going to be heard?
Peace, Love, and MarioKart.
~Poindextra
Something about the gross...intellectual decomposition caused by politics bugs me. What's worse, is it's not even the politicians I can't stand anymore. It's the mouths of the voters that piss me off.
Think about it. You get your basic angry working-class Joe, who listens to the news making negative spin after negative spin on ye olde politician. And all this little Joe will do is bitch and moan over how terrible the world is growing to be. And after someone says "Why don't you do something about it?" they're met with the redundant response;
There's nothing I can do about it.
It sure as hell feels like there isn't, but I will admit that if someone out there is willing enough, and brass-balled enough to step in front of a mass media source and scream "This world is going to shit, and it's your fault because you're lazy," I'll be right behind them. Fuck, I'd do it myself if I knew where to start.
Maybe I should.
People need to suck up their inadequacies and start thinking about the world around them. Pull the stick out of your ass, and the gauze out of your ears, and listen to your surroundings. Listen to what other people think.
It's damn hard to do, I'm well aware. But it's not a matter of changing the world in a day. Never was. Just make little changes here and there, and watch as the little steps grow into big results. But before any of that can be done, the quintessential foundation needs to be laid;
Pay attention.
There's nothing you can do well with false or incomplete information. And this is the biggest problem being faced today. People will look no further than the information they want to hear, information that validates their opinion and makes them seem smart in the eyes of someone else, if only for that brief stint of a coffee-shop conversation.
Hypocrisy blooms constantly in this day and age. Promises made that will likely never be kept, ideas that are only half-founded and then promptly contradicted or reversed for fear of persecution, and ignorant fools sitting behind the television taking every word anyone says at face value. The metaphor is losing its flair in favour of literalist interpretations. Nobody wants to think for themselves anymore.
This is not the freedom the dead soldiers fought for. This is not the world the Renaissance scholars strived to create.
This is the world where the biota has become robotic. Pre-programmed opinions governed by corporate labels and anger/scare tactics, controlled by the minds everyone's mad at, but too afraid to push against. The human mind is a beautiful thing, and it's being fashioned into little more than it's own egocentric universe.
Sure, we still question everything. But does it count as questioning if it's never going to be heard?
Peace, Love, and MarioKart.
~Poindextra
Friday, September 12, 2008
My boyfriend is so mean to me.
So this morning after I decided to stalk my various e-mail inboxes and website what-have-yous, I returned myself to one of my favourite blogs to read when horrendously bored, Violent Acres. A few link-hops later and I stumble across her entry about fun adventures buying NyQuil, and then shortly after rediscovered her hysterical story of beating down a Super!Wal-Mart employee hierarchy with simple semantics. (The follow-up to that story is also hysterical.)
ANYWAY. That sets you up with the context for this next bit, and if you're too lazy to read, shut up I'm not feeding you the funnies.
I'm sitting in an Anthropology lecture reading these entries, and I look over to my boyfriend with this almost demonic gleam in my eye and ask, "Can we do this?"
Much to my chagrin, his only response is "If you do, I'm modifying a toaster." Fucker. (<3)
I hate toasters. And he's not allowed to use them. Why? Because he possesses them with his mind. NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE DENIES THIS, it's true. And there's a story for this too.
While he was in Germany, we had epically long conversations via Skype. Most of these conversations were truly random and (in the eyes of anyone with a 'normal' psychological process) inconsequential. Well, one fateful day, we somehow get onto the subject of his fascination with taking things apart and making them either better, different, or a threat to humankind. (He has the technology.......Run fast.) This conversation turned to him talking about modifying a toaster so that it had four settings: Light, Medium, Dark, and Kill. For some sick, twisted reason, I got hungry after this. So I brb'd and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. GUESS WHICH APPLIANCE I ENDED UP USING.
I'm lifting the damn thing up to put it on the counter, and unbeknownst to me, the little cage inside that holds the toastee in place snags the pendant around my neck and yoinks me down. Also; scary as hell.
Sure enough, I waltz back into the bedroom where he's patiently awaiting my return, sandwich in hand, and scream at him for sending telepathic messages to my kitchen appliances.
He's not allowed in there unsupervised. As for my desire to stir shit up in a Wal-Mart, in my defense I'm not going to launch projectiles.
Peace, Love, and MarioKart.
~Poindextra
ANYWAY. That sets you up with the context for this next bit, and if you're too lazy to read, shut up I'm not feeding you the funnies.
I'm sitting in an Anthropology lecture reading these entries, and I look over to my boyfriend with this almost demonic gleam in my eye and ask, "Can we do this?"
Much to my chagrin, his only response is "If you do, I'm modifying a toaster." Fucker. (<3)
I hate toasters. And he's not allowed to use them. Why? Because he possesses them with his mind. NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE DENIES THIS, it's true. And there's a story for this too.
While he was in Germany, we had epically long conversations via Skype. Most of these conversations were truly random and (in the eyes of anyone with a 'normal' psychological process) inconsequential. Well, one fateful day, we somehow get onto the subject of his fascination with taking things apart and making them either better, different, or a threat to humankind. (He has the technology.......Run fast.) This conversation turned to him talking about modifying a toaster so that it had four settings: Light, Medium, Dark, and Kill. For some sick, twisted reason, I got hungry after this. So I brb'd and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. GUESS WHICH APPLIANCE I ENDED UP USING.
I'm lifting the damn thing up to put it on the counter, and unbeknownst to me, the little cage inside that holds the toastee in place snags the pendant around my neck and yoinks me down. Also; scary as hell.
Sure enough, I waltz back into the bedroom where he's patiently awaiting my return, sandwich in hand, and scream at him for sending telepathic messages to my kitchen appliances.
He's not allowed in there unsupervised. As for my desire to stir shit up in a Wal-Mart, in my defense I'm not going to launch projectiles.
Peace, Love, and MarioKart.
~Poindextra
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