I often wonder if I really said what was on my mind how many of my friends and family would stick around?  I am forever battling thousands of thoughts at once to the point where I have caused myself to have frequent hallucinations from the time I was 13 yrs old.  (For a more in-depth look at hallucinations Click Here.)  I am a person who is forever changing, questioning, doubting and searching.  Sometimes I honestly don’t know what it is I am searching for, but I know one thing for certain: I am tired of being afraid.  Afraid of what you may ask?  Life.  Many people have pondered the meaning of existence, but my fear is more what happens afterward?  To those of religion and faith the answer may be simple, but for someone as critical as myself not so true.

     These days, it’s hard to have faith in anything.  People can let you down so hard that it’s sometimes impossible for someone like me put all of my faith into something that can’t even be proven to exist.  What would be so different from a person saying “I put all of my faith and trust into Tinkerbell?”  Everyone has heard of her and the Disney company has made her infamous so if you clap your hands loud enough wouldn’t that make her real?  So-called “world-renowned psychic” Sylvia Browne says fairies are real and claims to have seen one in Ireland, so if she said it it must be true.  Right?  Therefor, who’s to say Tinkerbell isn’t real and isn’t an influential part of our daily lives?

     I recently said to a co-worker that I admired people who had such strong faith and I often wished I didn’t have so many questions.  He reassured me that questions were a good thing and it meant I was “using the old noodle.”  I guess if you look at it that way it can be positive.  Sometimes I think that things don’t happen for some grand cosmic reason and that life is, as Lemony Snicket put it, a series of unfortunate events.  I would absolutely love to be proven incorrect and am dieing for hardcore validation of consciousness after death (no pun intended).  Nothing would give me more peace of mind than knowing existence is not a meaningless, random act of natural selection.

     I used to believe in ghosts, psychics, astrology and all other manner of paranormal bullshit, but now I am more of a person who believes it’s just coincidence and nothing more.  I think Nicolas Cage said it best in Knowing, “I believe shit just happens.” Ghosts are the result of hallucination and your mind playing tricks on you.  Psychics are swindlers who play 20 questions and our brains only tend to focus on the things they got right rather than the many that were so far off wrong.  Astrology is generalized bullshit that can refer to anyone, anywhere, anytime.  The rest of it is just plain belief in fairy’s.

     So, what am I to do?  For so many years I had been a devout religious advocate and you couldn’t tell me otherwise.  Now in my adulthood, I have experienced so much and been exposed to such negativity that I can’t help, but wonder is this it?  In some ways you could look at that as positive reinforcement.  If this life is truly it for us then why wouldn’t we spend every waking moment making it count?  Instead of living in fear of what’s to come, why not celebrate what you have now?  Be thankful for waking up in the morning, for having people who love you, for being able to share your love with others, for laughing, for crying, breakfast in bed, relaxing baths, your cat or dog, your family and friends that support you, chocolate milk, premium channels, books, great movies and crap movies that make you appreciate the good ones…etc. I’m getting carried away, but I could go on forever.

     I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t let fear of anything overrun your life.  If there really is someone watching over us I believe that they’d want us to be happy and would never punish our curiosity.  An all-loving deity would forgive us and love us for who we are just as we love our children and would never turn our backs on them or punish them by burning them with fire.  That is sick and sadistic and I absolutely do not believe in it.  Hell is a manmade concept and form of control to keep us under the thumb of the church.  If there is not an all-loving spirit to meet in the great beyond then we’d better make damn sure that we are expressing ourselves daily.  Tell all of the people you love just how much you love them even if they don’t return it.  Do all of the things you’ve ever wanted to do.  Don’t wait until it’s too late and then say “I should’ve”…Do it NOW!  Seize the day!

     I truly feel that Carpe Diem is the best advice we humans have ever come up with.  Don’t waste your time believing in fairies, believe in YOU! Make it count.

Le 1097 persone che per 45 minuti hanno infilato l’atrio della stazione della metropolitana di Enfant Plaza a Washington DC lo scorso 12 gennaio in preda alla solita ampia gamma di ansie (di andare al lavoro, di litigare col capoufficio, di affrontare una scadenza urgente, di allontanarsi dal coniuge col quale avevano appena litigato), non sapevano che sarebbero state le cavie di un esperimento. Una telecamera le ha riprese mentre passavano distrattamente davanti a un violinista che, come migliaia di altri come lui in tutte le metropolitane del mondo, si esibiscono col piattino, chi per pagarsi gli studi al conservatorio e chi, invece, come triste punto di arrivo di una carriera musicale mai decollata.

Solo che quella mattina del 12 gennaio, il musicista in questione era uno dei più grandi violinisti del mondo, Joshua Bell, prestatosi con esprit e autoironia all’esperimento, organizzato dal Washington Post, il cui scopo era “valutare la percezione della bellezza secondo il contesto”. Si sarebbero resi conto, quei mille, mentre correvano appresso alla catena tortuosa dei loro pensieri, che stavano involontariamente assistendo a quello che molti altri pagherebbero centinaia di dollari per ascoltare nelle sedi canoniche, le sale da concerto? Il Post ha voluto verificare le tre teorie estetiche principali che si contendono la spiegazione all’enigma su cosa sia la bellezza. In soldoni, sono le seguenti: quella di Gottfried Leibniz, secondo cui la bellezza è un fatto misurabile, quella di David Hume, che la considera del tutto soggettiva (come già Tommaso d’Aquino), o quella di Immanuel Kant che prende un poco da entrambe ma la vede dipendere dallo stato d’animo del soggetto osservatore.

Come avrebbero reagito i passanti? Avrebbero realizzato, almeno per un istante, che davanti a loro era un autentico genio del violino, uno che solitamente per le sue esibizioni guadagna una media di mille dollari al minuto? Se ne sarebbero accorti immediatamente, tanto la qualità intriseca delle musica suonata era al di sopra della media? Si sarebbe formato un capannello davanti all’ignoto virtuoso? Oppure l’eccezionale e irrepetibile performance sarebbe passata sotto la più totale, distratta indifferenza?

I numeri della performance di Bell: 32 i dollari guadagnati (più gli spicci), sette le persone che si sono fermate un minuto ad osservare incuriosite, mentre il violinista americano suonava la Ciaccona della Partita per violino numero 2 di Bach, che oltre ad essere una delle vette musicali d’Occidente è anche un pezzo mostruosamente difficile da suonare (sono quattordici minuti di variazioni sulla stessa progressione musicale che creano un’architettura sonora di grande complessità).

Una sola persona si è fermata e lo ha riconosciuto, rimanendo persa nella meraviglia surreale di vedere un genio suonare per degli spicci. Gli altri mille nemmeno per un istante hanno distolto la mente e le orecchie dalla loro trafila mattutina.

Bell è il classico ex-enfant prodige che ha saputo mantenere le promesse, diventando un solista di livello stratosferico. Suona uno Stradivari del 1710, l’annata migliore, del valore di circa tre milioni e mezzo di dollari, che ha portato con sé alla “performance” in taxi, anche se il suo albergo era a due isolati di distanza. Bell ha dimostrato di avere fegato nell’accettare di essere ignorato (lui, il fulcro dell’attenzione ovunque vada da quando era un poppante) e di uscire malconcio dall’esperimento, una cosa rara in un musicista del suo livello.

La fine di pezzi come la Ciaccona di Bach o l’Ave Maria di Schubert, che di solito esegue in un auditorium davanti a mille persone rapite che trattengono il respiro e che invece quella mattina erano soffocati dal caos della città che si sveglia, anziché l’esplosione estatica dell’applauso hanno strappato solo l’assordante frastuono dell’indifferenza.

L’esperimento di Bell illumina la nostra capacità di soffermarci sull’unicità del momento presente, per quanto ripetitiva e scontata sia la nostra routine. Di stare svegli, insomma.

Mi ha fatto pensare al risentimento e al fastidio che ho provato di recente camminando nel tunnel che porta al V&A Museum con la mia musica incanalata nelle orecchie tramite iPod. Un violinista suonava un Vivaldi, credo, producendo un suono che copriva quello che stavo ascoltando: rompeva la bolla d’isolamento che mi ero gelosamente costruito con la sua fastidiosa intrusione. Fosse stato anche Gidon Kremer, probabilmente non me ne sarei accorto, e anzi, ero risentito.

Sarà anche “arte senza cornice”, come ha scritto il sagace commentatore del Post, ma il flop di Joshua Bell nella metro di Washington è soprattutto la prova tangibile del nostro permanente sonnambulismo metropolitano.

Qui il link allo stupendo pezzo del WPost.

Estratto dall’articolo di b-loggedonlondon, Leonardo Clausi

Saluti Patrizia

There’s an old saying I just made up: “Don’t judge the message by the messenger. Judge the message on its actual content.” 

When I first heard that saying (about two minutes ago), it came to me as I was watching the youtube videos of Glenn Beck’s rally last week-end held at “The Villages” here in Florida. 

I had intended on driving up to see him in person, but a prior committment kept me from doing so. However, one of the principals of our local 912 Group was there and thoughtfully taped Glenn’s speech in its entirety. I present it to you in segments below.

Before watching, however, please allow me to make a couple of points:

Beck’s Flair For Theatrics

Upon first viewing, it would be easy to compare the theatrics of Beck’s presentations to any number of egocentric “look at ME!” performers, so full of themselves you simply want to run screaming in the other direction.

Only when you know Beck’s “back story” does one understand that what you’re  actually watching is a man who has been to the gates of hell and clawed his way back.

It may be difficult to get it at first, but what you are seeing is not so much theatrics, but the true, “my right hand to God” passion of a man who looked at death (by his own doing) in the face before experiencing his own personal  epiphany. That epiphany gave him the strength to say, “No! There’s   something better in store for me. Let that journey be my journey of choice.”   Understand, this man speaks his heart straight from the hip… and his shirt sleeve.

I wanted to ask Glenn one simple question (and if I get the chance, I will): “Glenn, if you had not plummeted to the depths you did, do you think you would have found the courage, the strength and the clarity of vision needed to get to where you are now?” Because, make no mistake folks. Beck puts his life on the line every day. When he uncovers corruption, he exposes it. When he knows who is behind some nefarious abuse of power, he names names. Not because he is trying to be a big shot, but because he has been to hell and back and he knows, there is right and there is wrong. And if you don’t have the guts to stand up against what’s wrong, those who stand up for wrong will always win.

The Wrong People Are Winning Because We Let Them

The wrong people have been “winning” in this country for too long. But, it’s primarily because those of us who know what’s right have been too comfortable in our barcaloungers and designer fashions to stand up and confront them. We didn’t want to spill our lattes. We’ve been more concerned with political correctness than the truth.

We’ve been lazy and we’ve been cowards.

Beck Has A Plan – And It’s Huge

 Beck has a plan to turn this ship called America around. And you’d better listen up, folks, because that ship is currently bashing into an iceberg. I’ll let Beck complete that metaphor in the video.

But here’s the bottom line: Within the next couple of years, our character as individuals as well as a society will be tested at the same level as those who got us through WWII and the great depression.   Maybe even more harshly.

My prediction as of the moment? As a nation, we don’t have the character to make it through the approaching  fire.

As a nation, we traded our character for creature comforts. We left honor at the entrance to our office buildings in exchange for “whatever it takes to win” in business. Worst of all, we left the greatest part of “family” at the door in exchange for the self-pleasures of big screen TVs, PCs where our children find it easier to communicate with strangers than their own parents; a dinner table that’s used more for setting things on other than food since we don’t really eat together that much any more.

We left the art of parenting at the day care center so we can have the double income  to pay for the bigger house and the mini-van, not to mention week-ends at the spa (“Oh, it’s so gooood to get away from the kids, isn’t it honey?”). 

No, we don’t all live that way, but there’s something in that scenario above that most people can relate to… if they’re honest.  And look at where it’s gotten us. We didn’t have to sacrifice being “the right people” in order to get here. But we did it anyway, because it made it so much  easier if we didn’t have to hold ourselves accountable.

And that’s precisely the kind of society that spawns the likes of Nancy Pelosi, Barney Frank, Harry Reid and, yes, Barack Obama:  When WE THE PEOPLE decide to let others rule us, then rule us they will.  THAT’S how we got to where we are today. We gave the politicians the opportunity to abuse their powers and they did so. Why does that surprise any of us?

Is Beck’s Plan Doomed To Failure?

Beck has a plan. But it’s destined for failure unless we are all willing to commit to doing the right thing with our lives. Before we can demand excellence from our politicians, we have to commit to excellence in ourselves.

But here’s the challenge facing us: Beck discovered the importance of character when standing at the gates of Hell.  But we’re not there. We’re in our SUVs on our way to pick up Chinese take-out for dinner. We’re at the gym working out to maintain our buff bodies instead of taking that time to be with our kids. The kids are at the mall-cineplex doing heaven knows what.  

How, then, do we discover the need to fundamentally change our own behavior if we are drunk with comfort? We’re achieving our goals, but they’re the wrong goals!

Beck’s hell was the result of alcohol and drug abuse. Ours is going to be from throwing away all that God has given us that is good: Family. Honor. Faith. Commitment. Dedication to doing the right thing all the time. It’s hard to commit to good when you’re so comfortable in your “comfort zone.”  But like it or not, that comfort zone we all have is about to shift with the American paradigm.

Good News – Bad News

Beck’s plan can work. There is light at the end of the tunnel. The bad news? We have to dig the tunnel.  It will take commitment, dedication, honor, and faith to make the journey, but if we are willing to provide all of that, then Ronald Reagan was right: “America’s finest days are yet to come.” But only – and I stress this – only if we are willing to commit to a long-term re-building of our society and ourselves. And yes… it could take one hundred years to truly reach that goal. But oh, what a better ride it’s gonna be on the way there.

Here’s Glenn to tell you more about it:

If you made it this far, congratulations. You get it. And you care. Now… get going. Get out of your comfort zone and get involved. Get your house in order.  Or get ready to lose it altogether. There’s not going to be any choice in the matter. If you choose anything but the honorable path, you may wind up at your own personal gates of hell. The choice is yours. And the time to decide is now.

Gerry Ashley

Hoy es el primer dia del resto de tu vida…

Read more here:

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Greetings Sugar

Skin:  *FS*  Fiona Gold Glow (Natural)

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Inizio/189/180/26

Shape:  *Carpe diem*  Emma

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/74/213/23

Hair:  *BooN*  EKE 119

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zapico/25/170/35

Jacket:  *Madsy*  Fur Gilet silver

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Bill/221/69/43

Shirt:  *Dutch Touch*  Woolen Cardigan with Hoodie

Skirt:  *Dutch Touch*  Denim Skirt brown

http://slurl.com/secondlife/DUTCH%20TOUCH/189/85/41

Socks:  *Doppelgänger*  Button me up desert socks

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Bill/216/190/44

Boots:  *KAO*  Suede fringe boots

http://slurl.com/secondlife/itutu/129/121/1001

Accessoires:  *YS&YS*  Ivory Necklace+Earrings

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Feel%20Beautiful/101/63/25

Belt:  *Mandala*  Kookai Belt

http://slurl.com/secondlife/TEMPURA%20SOBA/53/123/777

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Greetings Sugar

Read more here:

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Greetings Sugar

Skin:  *Lelutka*  Eclat Jade dark make up 4

http://slurl.com/secondlife/LeLutka/247/128/23

Shape:  *Carpe diem*  Emma

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/74/213/23

Hair:  *LH*  hair67 simon black

http://slurl.com/secondlife/LITTLE%20HEAVEN/115/74/23

Tee:  *SweetLeonard&Needful things*  Wool Rib Tee

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/153/65/24

Jeans:  *Worldwide Industries*  RolledUp Pants stars

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/37/158/24

Necklace:  *Manna*  Perle`d Automne

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/170/103/24

Gloves:  *Devol*  Leather belt gloves

http://slurl.com/secondlife/dEVOL/96/163/34

Boots:  *TheAbyss*  NAU Combat Boots

http://slurl.com/secondlife/The%20Abyss/96/136/237

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Greetings Sugar

Bom, as pessoas que me acompanham, que não são muitas, -se é que existem, devem ter percebido que semana passada não postei nada. Por muitos motivos. Estava totalmente sem inspiração no fim de semana. Muuuuuitos trabalhos e tudo mais. Fim de ano é realmente complicado!
O blog deve ter feito dois anos! Omg! Dois anos! E eu nem percebi… Esqueci a data, completamente.
Enfim, passou em branco dessa vez, mas não é como se alguém fosse reparar XD
Da próxima vez, eu me lembrarei, promessa. Hey, isso é uma promessa ao blog.

Eu gosto dele, ele é legal (Durante muito tempo dei mais valor às coisas do que as pessoas… Coisa de gente que cresceu sozinho trancado no quarto, sabe?)

Por causa de tudo isso, venho com dois poemas novos, eu diria interessantes:

.

Céu da Noite

Rafael Rabelo

Vem comigo, vem
Contar estrelas
Uma, duas, três
E perder as contas
E começar de novo

Vem procurar no céu
as constelações:
Órion, cruzeiro do sul
A gente aponta pra três marias
E se elas sorriem, não tem problema

Vem olhar a lua cheia
Brilha que parece um sol
E tão nítida e perfeita
Mesmo sem poesia, ela é linda
E como brilha!

Vem ver as nuvens!
Ah, é uma beleza as nuvens da noite
Como desenhos feitos à lápis
Usando técnicas de borrar no dedo
As vezes são umas pinceladas

E se estamos no silêncio
Dá pra ouvir a música da noite
E quem sabe caminhar nas órbitas
Por que quando a gente olha
pro céu da noite, meu amor
A gente olha pro verdadeiro infinito.

.

.

.

Nós dois depois de um tempo

Rafael Rabelo

Ainda me lembro
do começo de nós dois
Tão apaixonados, tão ligados
Feitos um para o outro
Meus beijos só teus
Eu só pra você

Cheios de dengo-dengo
nhém-nhém-nhém, bilu-bilu
De carinho-escondido
De furta-fogo aqui e ali
De cenas de ciumes
De demonstrações de afeto.

Me lembro bem
Das lágrimas inseguras
E das roupas novas
Cheias de intensões travessas
Do nosso bem-estar juntos
cantar alto a música de nós dois
E assistir filme abraçadinho

Lembro de ter começado
Com pouco, muito pouco.
Um olhar azedo aqui
Não cede hoje, amanhã não cedo
Tantos sapos, tantas raivas!
E o carinho? Sei lá.

E toda vez calavamos mais
Nos saturavamos de nós mesmos
Nós dois tornou-se um fardo
Né? Agora eram coisas como:
O idiota, aquela vaca, imbecil

E tudo tornou-se tão ácido
Amargo como o gosto do anestésico
Tão áspero e vil
Que perdemos o sentido
Os sentidos e o coração

O que aconteceu com o que éramos antes?
Somos agora dois inimigos que dormem na mesma cama

.

.

.

Sem imagens porque acabei de escrever… E teriam que ser duas, pra ser justo.

Andei pensando (Há!) se eu pudesse desejar algo, provavelmente não desejaria coisa alguma. As pessoas vão pensar: Oh, como isso? E a paz mundial? E o dinheiro? E o amor? E bla bla bla?
Nah, as coisas que realmente valem a pena querer, são boas só quando a gente conquista com o próprio esforço.

Enfim, só andei pensando nisso, só…

Read more here:

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Greetings Sugar

Skin:  *IrEn*  Shane pale flower rose

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/211/53/23

Hair:  *OH*  Oh my ramen

http://slurl.com/secondlife/TOCHIGI%20JAPAN/206/146/25

Sweater:  *Coco*  TurtleneckSweater..Groupgift

http://slurl.com/secondlife/COCO%20DESIGNS/88/128/35

Skirt:  *en Svale*  Knit skirt

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Thisbe/17/133/23

Boots:  *Resurrection*  Army boots

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Deneb/84/181/20

Socks:  *PopFuzz*  Socks black

http://slurl.com/secondlife/PopFuzz/129/129/505

Shape:  *Carpe diem*  Shape Emma *NEW*

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Zephyra/74/213/23

Every Skin includes:

normal version

bikini version

freckles version

3 tattoed versions

Mask version

with and without Hairline

(the beated version do not include the mask and tattoed version)

Two skintones available…pale and sunburned.

Greetings Sugar

http://felidaepunkneko.wordpress.com

Deer on the road dead

a man leaps from burning Jeep

Four cops with guns drawn

A novidade CHEGOU!!!!

Olha o que uma ótima parceria pode criar.

VPadin e The Sketchbook is on the Table criaram os novos Carpe Diem.

Ficha técnica:

Caderno para anotações.

Tamanho: 11 x 15cm

Folhas – 60 – papel reciclado – 75g

Tipos: 4 capas diferentes com a arte de VPadin

foto- Carpe Diem  – Galos em cores de VPadin com caneta simples.

Valores:

          1 caderno R$55,00 (na compra de 2  ou mais cadernos  – R$50,00 unidade)

          1 conjunto simples (caderno + caneta de uma cor) – R$58,00

          2 ou mais conjuntos simples – R$53,00 unidade

  foto – Carpe Diem  - Montanha de doces de VPadin com caneta simples.   

foto – Carpe Diem  - Flor no lago verde de VPadin com caneta simples. 

  foto – Carpe Diem  -Rendado de VPadin com caneta simples.  

          1 conjunto 4 cores (caderno + caneta 4 cores bic) – R$61,00

          2 ou mais conjuntos 4 cores – R$56,00 unidade

  foto – Carpe Diem  -todos os tipos com caneta 4 cores da bic (corpo azul -cores vermelho, azul escuro, verde escuro, preto //corpo verde -cores rosa, azul claro, verde claro e roxo).           

Acréscimo de canetas no conjunto: caneta de uma cor R$3,00 unidade

caneta 4 cores da bic R$6,00 unidade]

(não inclui o valor do sedex, custo do sedex será cobrado)

Só hoje percebi
Que o tempo aposta corrida
Com nossa compreensão

Quanto mais o tempo corre
Menos entendemos os fatos
E só conseguimos saber
Que tudo já passou e nada aproveitamos

Somos retardatários
Nessa pista reta e sem fim

O único modo de vencermos o tempo
É nos esquecendo dele
Vivendo a vida da melhor forma
Sem preocupação

Jean Rodrigo Bonjorno 25/11/04

Mais uma poesia quase aniversariante… hehehe
Essa é, digamos que, uma viagem doida, sobre a frase “Carpe Diem”

Comentem povo!!

In an attempt to delay the inevitability of having to deal with my life, last weekend I stumbled into a Manhattan movie theatre and decided I would see whatever film was scheduled to start next. I looked at the board and saw that 2012 was beginning in five minutes. So without letting myself think too much about it I purchased a ticket, entered the theatre, went to the bathroom, nestled into a cushy seat and invited Roland Emmerich and John Cusack to help me forget my life.

People, we’ve got three years. Three years to get our shit together. Three years before Danny Glover/Barack Obama comes on T.V. and tells us we’re fucked. Three years before Oliver Platt/Dick Cheney abuses his power in a time of crisis (wait, that sounds familiar…). Three years before John Cusack/Jennifer Blevins is the one writer to survive the apocalypse and becomes the poet laureate of the world by default.

Because to quote another great poet, House of Pain: “But I ain’t going out like no punk bitch.”

Oh yeah….that’s right, bitches. Ya’ll go ahead and fall through cracks in the earth and be consumed by fireballs and dust clouds and tsunamis and the inherent greed of man. I’ll be the one hopping on airplanes in the nick of time, befriending crazy doomsday prophets who impart important information, and happening upon benevolent Buddhist monks on dirt roads in China. Because I ain’t going out like no punk bitch.

What a silly, fun, ridiculous movie. It was unapologetically itself, and as such I was able to forgive it. My expectations were simple: to watch shit get blown up in new and exciting ways. My expectations were met. Thank you, Roland Emmerich. Of course random attempts at giving the movie “meaning” and “significance” were thrown in there, and I guess I was supposed to walk away with renewed faith in humanity. Whatever.

Regardless of how you interpret the Mayan calendar, it can be both fun and terrifying to entertain the possibility that the world as we know it is about to end. I will be 34 years old on December 21, 2012. I work out almost every single day, eat well and try to take care of myself, so there’s a very good chance I will still be physically fit n’ healthy on doomsday. I have every intention of staying on my current spiritual/ emotional/ intellectual path these next three years. So, in essence, when the shit hits the fan on 12/21/12 I will most likely be in the prime of my life. Ergo my combination of intelligence, physical health and faith will probably make me a prime candidate for surviving the apocalypse.

While the movie did not succeed in reaching the thematic and symbolic depths it aimed to hit, 2012 did actually affect me emotionally. Because it captured one idea really well: when the world falls apart, the only thing that matters is love. Yes, an incredibly generic and cheesy theme….but very true.

As I watched the movie I started listing the people I love the most and calculating their chance of surviving some kind of global disaster. I assembled my family in my head and got very realistic. I tried to figure out a plan of how I could get from New York to North Carolina as the earth’s crust disintegrated beneath me. My eyes started tearing up as I thought about my parents; I know they would not be physically strong enough to survive, even if I could get there in time to help them. I thought about my brother and how he would be the single most important person to me the day the world fell apart. Not only is he my brother and one of the three people I love most in the world, but he’s also a cop/former Army man and one of the most resourceful individuals I know. If the two of us could reach each other, I think we’d be ok.

I started adding friends to this list in my head and noted which ones made it to the family side of the list; there are two in particular who already know they would be more than welcome to join Team Blevins on the day of the apocalypse. I started thinking about the randomness (or not-so-randomness) of fate and tried to imagine the strangers who would enter my life as we all worked together to survive.

I started thinking about my depression, which has always greatly influenced my relationship with myself. It’s so fascinating to me that I know I would fight for my life, even though there have been plenty of times when I have not wanted it. For some reason self-destruction has always been an alluring aspect of my depression, yet my survival instinct kicks in when threatened by external forces. I have no doubt that the moment California fell into the ocean I would launch into survival mode and begin a quest to try to save myself and as many people I love as possible.

Why is that?

It’s almost like a parent who harms their own child but gets angry when other people do it. Like my psyche is saying: “Look, no one can be threatening and harmful to me but me, and we are NOT going down in a ball of flames on 12/21/12.” When the threatening party is outside of yourself, the battle lines are clear and you can see your foe. We all have that survival instinct, but people with depression/bi-polar/etc. understand that things get really complicated when you can’t see what you’re fighting. When what you’re battling is inside yourself, it can be very comforting to sit in a movie theatre and watch a disaster/sci-fi flick and be given a tangible enemy to fight.

And in the case of 2012, we are presented with an interesting personification of this internal battle: our core becomes our enemy. We are being attacked from within. Actually, it’s kind of a nice way for people to see what it feels like to live with depression or bi-polar: some days all you can do is run like hell and try not to get sucked in.

I continued to develop my apocalypse survival plan as I exited the movie theatre and got on the subway to go home. I started thinking about how great it would feel to be one of those survivors. I think that maybe I would be a very good person to help start the New World.

Because I ain’t going out like no punk bitch, and I seem to have a flair for speaking the truth.

from below you gaze

upwards with humble intent

Oh no John Obey

Y siguiendo con los tópicos latinos, hoy os propongo recordar el fragmento de El club de los poetas muertos (1989) en que el profesor Keating invita a sus alumnos del colegio Welton a escuchar la voz de sus antecesores. Están todos frente a las vitrinas de la sala de trofeos cuando de pronto se escucha un susurro misterioso… ¿Recordáis qué les dicen los muertos a los vivos desde sus fotografías amarillentas?

Otra escena memorable es aquella en que el profesor pide a sus alumnos que piensen por sí mismos en la clase de poesía, que se dejen de medir versos y buscar recursos retóricos, y se concentren en el sentido del texto. Porque lo primero -no lo olvidemos nunca- es la emoción, la impresión personal, la huella que dejan las palabras en nuestra mente… Y si no sentimos esa emoción propia y auténtica, es muy difícil entender de verdad la literatura. ¿Estáis de acuerdo?

El día de hoy no se volverá a repetir. Vive intensamente cada instante. Lo que no significa alocadamente, sino mimando cada situación, escuchando a cada compañero, intentando realizar cada sueño positivo, buscando el éxito del otro y examinándote de la asignatura fundamental: el amor. Para que un día no lamentes haber malgastado egoístamente tu capacidad de amar y dar vida.

El club de los poetas muertos (1989) es una película norteamericana dirigida por Peter Weir.

Esto es el colmo, ahora entiendo lo que es el “look universitario”. Ropa informal que chille por mí, con lo poquísimo que me gusta levantar la voz y llamar la atención. ¡Esto es el puto colmo! llevo días buscando una camiseta guay que diga “CARPE DIEM”, que creo que es una frase de Cupido…o de Shakespeare.

El caso es que no la encuentro por ningún lado y nadie me facilita una dirección donde comprarla. Ví una, sí, pero no tenía escote y me hacia las tetas pequeñas. Encima que tengo pocas (dos, como todo el mundo) no quiero parecer una tabla de planchar por mucho “CARPE DIEM” que lleve.

X X X

Esto es el colmo, por llamarlo de alguna manera. Hace cuarenta y siete años, trece meses y sesenta y un días que comencé a buscar, tienda por tienda, la puta camiseta. Estoy hasta las narices porque la idea de llevar esa camiseta puesta me ha destrozado la psique y he olvidado todo lo que era. He olvidado “lo” que buscaba y sólo quiero la camiseta de CARPE DIEM. Ya me da igual que me vean con ella porque ha pasado de moda.

X X X

Buenas noticias, después de ochenta y nueve años, quince meses y un día, he encontrado una camiseta de CARPE DIEM que me valga. Es rectangular y de madera. Me sienta muy bien. Pero estoy segura de que he perdido demasiado tiempo buscándola. ¿Qué significará CARPE DIEM?

*Nota de aclaración al posible lector: O eres lector o no, pero no puedes ser un posible lector.
*Nota de aclaración al lector: Nuestra protagonista se encontraba sola porque un años antes de empezar su búsqueda perdió a su novio. Hay que decir que no fue buena idea dejarle sólo jugando al FIFA mientras ella iba a comprarse una camiseta blanca que rezaba “I LOVE MY BOY”. Para lo cual se tiró otros noventa años.

Colaboración del compañero Rober Broder

Bob Dylan at IU Auditorium, originally uploaded by DRheins.

even in row 5

Bob Dylan is a mere blur

Tom Waits a shadow

Pink Sherbert Photography

In these moments.. Moments of pure bliss from the (figurative) hands of another person.. In these moments we begin to doubt.. We question the purity and simplicity of the sparkling chemistry.. We dig too deep to understand the rate of speed our liking is traveling.. We search for any modicum of negativity that proves that these flutters in our stomach are nothing more than the leftover moths of loves past..

We believe that this.. Thing.. We’ve come across is “too good to be true”.. The magnetism is a sign of trouble rather than a sign to forge ahead, even if carefully so.. We read into every questionable action but disregard the simple cues that he really is “into” us.. We focus on the minute nicks in the new possible union that would surely shred this thing into unrecognizable pieces.. We take the time to wonder.. Why? Why am I so deserving of something like this.. So simple, easy.. carefree even?

In these moments of doubt.. We must remind ourselves that no thing is guaranteed.. But even so, we must discover all that life and love have to offer..

Last night.. I decided to seize the moments.. Allow each second of time to exist on its own accord knowing that I could not predict the future or change the past.. Knowing that so far.. So good.. Everything I have seen has led me to believe that forging ahead.. carefully and as carefree as possible will not be a one-way deal.. I have picked apart everything that I possibly could up until this point.. But logic made no sense in his presence..

Only emotions were allowed.. Emotions whether good or bad.. Allow us to open ourselves up to living boldly.. Logic forces us to “think it through”.. Today I said the hell with logic.. I decided to allow myself to live in the moment as long as I can..

If the moment only lasts a day.. I will have to be okay with that.. And if somehow.. The moment lasts longer.. I pray I’ll be blessed to revel in it.. Somewhere in those moments I will find happiness and laughter.. Perhaps I will find love.. But only time could tell you that.. Above all.. I hope to release negative thinking from my being and understand what it means to “carpe diem”..

I cannot deny that a strong force exists that draws us to each other.. So I won’t try.. I will just allow myself to live inside each moment totally.. I won’t focus on what may go wrong.. And I won’t worry about what may become of this.. I will only focus on the here and now..

I make this promise to myself and this mysterious creation of man.. To seek each moment in and of itself for as long as I am allowed and revel in it for as long as I possibly can..

Xoxo,

m. lauren..
carpe the moment

More often than not you hear this phrase uttered as soon as a person hit that “Carpe Diem” moment, where they have finally decided to say “Fuck it” to life and just roll with it. But with this phrase rapidly reaching the “annoyingly cliche” status in my book, I couldn’t help but ask:

“Are Bus drivers known for their reckless driving?”

Without any sort of statistic in my hand, I’m guessing not. I ride the bus quite frequently nowadays (‘08 crisis is a bitch) and as far as I could tell, bus drivers tend to follow designated speed restrictions assigned on their usual routes. And if there are any chances of us getting killed by a recklessly driven motorized vehicle, I’m quite confident to say that it would be from a rampaging Toyota Prius being driven by a teenager while talking to her friend about the latest episode of “The Hills”.

Interestingly, you usually only see or hear anyone dying from recklessly driven buses are the instantaneous deaths in movies where the victim unwittingly crosses the street without looking. The writers “cleverly” hide this critical pedestrian misstep by immersing the characters in 3 different seemingly casual situations:

1. The victim is on a heated argument.

2. Looking back to a person of interest. (Often times romantic)

3. After the naive conclusion that they are out of harms way. (Surprise!)

All you need is a lone bus driving 60mph on a 35mph street and your good to go.

The funniest thing about all this “Getting hit by a bus” cliche is the fact that the only movie that might involve a bus killing anyone does not require the bus to hit someone…it requires the bus to explode! (Speed)