syncretism
anxiety culture
"His heart is as open as the sky." -Tao Te Ching
If you like scrabble, maybe you'd like Bananagrams.
If you like trivia, maybe you'd like sporcle.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Cabinet, cabinet on the wall. Why do you exist?
I was walking around my apartment, thinking about things I don't use. I could very easily get along without cabinet doors. Are those for looks? I've walked through cabins in Rocky Mountain National Park that show visitors "how we used to live" and those cabins don't have cabinet doors. They have shelves.
So, hey, I'm 22. I've always had cabinet doors and never thought much more than, "Nice handles," or "Mm, I would've picked pewter." But I can do without cabinet doors, especially after I got home after class and my kitchen looked like a ghost was messing with me. All my cabinet doors were open due to my rushed morning, and I thought, "Why do I even have these things?" And why do I have a door on my pantry? It's perpetually open anyway, so I'm not sure why it's there.
But with my wonderful human ability to reason, I see how they'd be helpful if you have pets or small kids that like to "get into everything," but I still think it's something we can skip.
My towel closet is essentially a shelf covered by a door. A full wood door, painted white, three hinges, and a handle. That's a lot to cover a shelf.
This pretty reckless assertion (get rid of all the cabinets and doors!) stems from a more modest (and probably more practical) idea from Ted Helm, entrepreneur on the e-commerce frontier, that packaging is so silly! We shrink wrap everything, and it's basically just waste in transit.
If you sell me floss, I'll buy the floss without the paperboard backing and plastic cover. Just pour all the floss dispensers in a bucket, and I'll grab one. No big.
I can also do without these individually wrapped pieces of gum. Remember Chiclets? Just throw em in a box, a cup with a hatch, everwhat and it's okay. Won't we all still like gum?
With this idea that packaging is waste, there's no sense in ripping off my cabinets (they'd exist here or in a landfill at this point), but I will peacefully protest aisle 11 in all its individually-wrapped glory.
So, hey, I'm 22. I've always had cabinet doors and never thought much more than, "Nice handles," or "Mm, I would've picked pewter." But I can do without cabinet doors, especially after I got home after class and my kitchen looked like a ghost was messing with me. All my cabinet doors were open due to my rushed morning, and I thought, "Why do I even have these things?" And why do I have a door on my pantry? It's perpetually open anyway, so I'm not sure why it's there.
But with my wonderful human ability to reason, I see how they'd be helpful if you have pets or small kids that like to "get into everything," but I still think it's something we can skip.
My towel closet is essentially a shelf covered by a door. A full wood door, painted white, three hinges, and a handle. That's a lot to cover a shelf.
This pretty reckless assertion (get rid of all the cabinets and doors!) stems from a more modest (and probably more practical) idea from Ted Helm, entrepreneur on the e-commerce frontier, that packaging is so silly! We shrink wrap everything, and it's basically just waste in transit.
If you sell me floss, I'll buy the floss without the paperboard backing and plastic cover. Just pour all the floss dispensers in a bucket, and I'll grab one. No big.
I can also do without these individually wrapped pieces of gum. Remember Chiclets? Just throw em in a box, a cup with a hatch, everwhat and it's okay. Won't we all still like gum?
With this idea that packaging is waste, there's no sense in ripping off my cabinets (they'd exist here or in a landfill at this point), but I will peacefully protest aisle 11 in all its individually-wrapped glory.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
"The Imagination of Nature"
I was checking out Mental Floss, one of my favorite sites, and found this sweet video remixing the excitement Bill Nye and Carl Sagan harbor for the interconnectedness in the universe.
It's kind of exciting to listen to the lyrics and watch their faces get so excited about "being made of star stuff," because I too get excited about being connected to everything. By chemicals, by purpose, it's far from belittling to think of all the bonds. What's the difference between my purpose and a black hole's when we look at the universe? How can I even begin to think about something like that?
It's kind of exciting to listen to the lyrics and watch their faces get so excited about "being made of star stuff," because I too get excited about being connected to everything. By chemicals, by purpose, it's far from belittling to think of all the bonds. What's the difference between my purpose and a black hole's when we look at the universe? How can I even begin to think about something like that?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Are you upset?
I saw "Where The Wild Things Are" tonight with some friends and it basically confirmed that someone else thinks assholes are only assholes because they're people who are scared. I really do think that. How can anyone really just be an asshole? I refuse to believe that can happen. There just MUST be something behind it, and like I've said, fear is behind everything negative.
The kid in this flick was lonely and afraid he wasn't loved so he acted out. Then he went to this beautiful and diverse island where the Wild Things were all scared and lonely and feared they weren't loved and then THEY acted out. Then the all realized they ARE loved and hugged each other and made me want to cry. Because sometimes I'm an asshole. Because sometimes I'm scared.
But I think it's maturity that lets me see that sometimes I'm an asshole. Sometimes I'm scared. Maturity let's me accept it, and attempt to deal with it. Maturity.
Concurrently, there's a mutiny in my World Civ class because our professor is a jerk. I wonder what he's afraid of. I've been getting emails from my peers telling me to join them in sending an email to the Department Head to complain. Now I'm not exactly sure what to do at this point, because all I really want to do is hug him and tell him that it's okay. It's aalll okaaay, like his mom once did, or didn't do, and who the hell knows what the problem is. I sure hope he isn't fired because he knows world history. He just is an ass. And that's really too bad.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Floating thoughts
It was raining yesterday. I was on my way to class, late, standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. I had the umbrella Kelsey left in my apartment before she left for Wales, which is bigger than my little green one that can barely keep a girl dry. I noticed a guy with his shoulders up around his ears, cold and wet, so I did the unimaginable: I invited him under my umbrella. I forgot I was late while we walked and talked and I made a new friend.
Who doesn't love white-noise, like a fan running, when you fall asleep?
And is this the first day of peace? (I really do feel like it might be.)
I've been collecting data to determine whether or not I'm an adult. I have a game closet. That's a very adult thing to have. I have beer in my refrigerator, but I always have trouble spelling refrigerator. Hm. Quandary. I pack snacks for road trips.
But what's more is (yeah, check it out), I can apologize when I've messed up. I can hug people when they're crying. I can tell someone when they have hurt my feelings. Now, that's adult.
Who doesn't love white-noise, like a fan running, when you fall asleep?
And is this the first day of peace? (I really do feel like it might be.)
I've been collecting data to determine whether or not I'm an adult. I have a game closet. That's a very adult thing to have. I have beer in my refrigerator, but I always have trouble spelling refrigerator. Hm. Quandary. I pack snacks for road trips.
But what's more is (yeah, check it out), I can apologize when I've messed up. I can hug people when they're crying. I can tell someone when they have hurt my feelings. Now, that's adult.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
On fear
I love fear. Fear is awesome. Fear runs everything, you know. If you gave me the chance, I would try to link every negative thing you've ever done to some fear you had. Isn't that crazy? I didn't always think this, but once I did, it was certainly hard to shake. I'm glad it's hard to shake though because wouldn't you like to know about something inside you running your life in all sorts of strange ways with not so much as a note to why? Yeah you would.
Regrets are linked to past fears. Wars, even this war going on right now was started by some fear. Why are people mean? Why do people cheat? Why do we fight? Why are there guns? Why is there so much shit going down all over the world, men? Why did I just single out men? Because men are more afraid than women. They, hands down, have the most to lose.
Love,
s
Friday, September 11, 2009
On worry
It all started with Baz Luhrmann. I watched his version of Shakespeare's "Romeo + Juliet," (1996) and subsequently hopped on itunes and bought the soundtrack.
First of all, the album is great, a sweet kick back to the 90's, but that's not really my point.
The song, "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" struck a cord. Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end of college and for some reason the worry and anxiety that is usually (albeit constant yet) "underlying" is now screaming (more with everyone around me, but a bit for me too).
For days, I was holding onto one of the song's mantras, "Don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." I was rolling it around and thinking about my friends and all their worries, about how I was worrying about their worries, and about my own worries and the ways all this darn worrying was affecting me. I've concluded that worry is bizarre and fascinating.
But what's more is why do we worry? I was researching social norms, the things we say, the ways we think because of what we are told, the flight or fight response, the idea of inherent self-worth, "earning" and "deserving" and it's so complicated we hardly ever give ourselves over to thinking about it! Worry is crazy! Guilt is crazy! It's self-inflicted anxiety! Masochists. A society made up of masochists. No wonder we're so preoccupied, giving ourselves polyps and ulcers, and dare I say ...cancer to have any time left for happiness.
I looked up "worry" on the internet. That's right. I looked it up and I found a whole website devoted to anxiety. It has articles about combating worry, finding your purpose, and how our society is selling us emotions. Emotions are tight. Every single darn one of 'em. (Please note that Worry is not an emotion.)
I don't claim to have an answer; I don't know how to be save my friends from worrying. But I'm giving myself a shot. I'm going to, like the "Anxiety Culture" website suggests, take my feet off both peddles. No accelerator. No brakes. Hey, no hands!! (I added that last one myself.) Don't get me wrong; I'm not going to throw in the towel on the world, I'm just going to hug and welcome it. You know, I was reminded about a fact of life by the sitcom "Big Bang Theory:" we are born, we consume calories, we expel waste, we die. Neat, huh? And I promise all that will happen, too. Guaranteed. The rest of it cannot, by definition, contain mistakes. Since nothing else is noted in the rules of life, anything goes. Happiness goes. Happiness! We can have it! No one cosmologically important said we can't. We said we can't. WE said we can't? Masochists. Masochists. We can be happy, you know. And we don't even have to feel guilty about it.
So here's to it: thinking about what I'm worrying about, separating the feeling of anxiety from the actual problem and welcoming the problem. Hey, impending graduation, real world, and no path of aspiration! What up? The time that my mind has already given you, that doesn't even exist yet, will happen. For shiznizzle. It will definitely pass, and then what? Will I be happy? No matter what happens in that already donated slot in my life? Guaranteed. Happiness. Guaranteed!
Love,
s
First of all, the album is great, a sweet kick back to the 90's, but that's not really my point.
The song, "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" struck a cord. Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end of college and for some reason the worry and anxiety that is usually (albeit constant yet) "underlying" is now screaming (more with everyone around me, but a bit for me too).
For days, I was holding onto one of the song's mantras, "Don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." I was rolling it around and thinking about my friends and all their worries, about how I was worrying about their worries, and about my own worries and the ways all this darn worrying was affecting me. I've concluded that worry is bizarre and fascinating.
But what's more is why do we worry? I was researching social norms, the things we say, the ways we think because of what we are told, the flight or fight response, the idea of inherent self-worth, "earning" and "deserving" and it's so complicated we hardly ever give ourselves over to thinking about it! Worry is crazy! Guilt is crazy! It's self-inflicted anxiety! Masochists. A society made up of masochists. No wonder we're so preoccupied, giving ourselves polyps and ulcers, and dare I say ...cancer to have any time left for happiness.
I looked up "worry" on the internet. That's right. I looked it up and I found a whole website devoted to anxiety. It has articles about combating worry, finding your purpose, and how our society is selling us emotions. Emotions are tight. Every single darn one of 'em. (Please note that Worry is not an emotion.)
I don't claim to have an answer; I don't know how to be save my friends from worrying. But I'm giving myself a shot. I'm going to, like the "Anxiety Culture" website suggests, take my feet off both peddles. No accelerator. No brakes. Hey, no hands!! (I added that last one myself.) Don't get me wrong; I'm not going to throw in the towel on the world, I'm just going to hug and welcome it. You know, I was reminded about a fact of life by the sitcom "Big Bang Theory:" we are born, we consume calories, we expel waste, we die. Neat, huh? And I promise all that will happen, too. Guaranteed. The rest of it cannot, by definition, contain mistakes. Since nothing else is noted in the rules of life, anything goes. Happiness goes. Happiness! We can have it! No one cosmologically important said we can't. We said we can't. WE said we can't? Masochists. Masochists. We can be happy, you know. And we don't even have to feel guilty about it.
So here's to it: thinking about what I'm worrying about, separating the feeling of anxiety from the actual problem and welcoming the problem. Hey, impending graduation, real world, and no path of aspiration! What up? The time that my mind has already given you, that doesn't even exist yet, will happen. For shiznizzle. It will definitely pass, and then what? Will I be happy? No matter what happens in that already donated slot in my life? Guaranteed. Happiness. Guaranteed!
Love,
s
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