Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Nothing is perfect

You can’t have your cake and eat it too. I’ve been told this many times. “Well, that’s stupid,” I use to think. “Cause here in my hand is a cake. And now I’m eating it too. Nom nom nom.” But as I grew older I started to understand its meaning (or I think I do) and the statement made more sense. Basically, you'll never get everything you want. Sacrifice is a part of life. Priority is in the eye of the beholder. You give to get. You compromise to live. Except if you’re a bicyclist that commutes on the street every god damn morning. You guy think you’re drivers and pedestrians all at the same time. Don’t even get me started.

Take David Beckham for a minute. That dude is a good looking guy, a great athlete, a model, maybe even a cyborg for all we know. But have you ever heard that guy talk? His voice is the goofiest thing I’ve ever heard. If you haven't heard it, think gargoyle meets dorky nerd with helium in his lungs. Now I’m not that religious or anything but every time I hear that voice, I picture God up in Heaven making people on a conveyor belt. Like before David Beckham was born, his fetus was lifeless on this conveyor belt and God was sprinkling stuff on him; a dash of Height, a teaspoon of Humor, and when God reached for the shaker labeled “good looks, great athlete, and maybe cyborg” she didn’t realize that some of the angels loosened the twist cap and BAM! David Beckham gets overflowed with it. So what does God do? She decides to skip the “manly voice” shaker just to even it out. Then she probably killed some angels. Then moved on to Tom Cruise's lifeless fetus.

So David, in case you were cursing the Heavens every night, wondering why you have such strange vocals, this blog right here will answer all your questions. You can’t have your cake and eat it too brother. Or should I say, "you can’t have good looks, be a great athlete, a model, and maybe a cyborg AND have a manly voice too, unless you become a bicyclist, then you're just an asshole." Let’s make that a new saying!

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Forever is Non Living

I am a little less of what I was yesterday
And a little bit more of what I'll be tomorrow
Forever is stubborn and naive
Change is growth
If we're not growing we're dead
But we're breathing which means we live
So change is upon us all
The incredulous views of forever
Doesn't mean a life of ends
A life of let downs
Not at all
Negative notions are not the aim
Rather, if we foresee it
We control it
We compromise with it
Opportunities are plenty
Forever is not growth
Therefore, forever is non living

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

According to Me

Orianthi is such a badass girl on the guitar, according to me. For those of you that don’t know her, she’s most famous for her employment as lead guitarist for Michael Jackson’s This is it tour. Her signature move consist of walking to the forefront of the stage where a big fan from under the floor pushes her long blonde hair every which way while she performs a ridiculous electric solo. And by fan, I mean one of those machines with propellers that spin and blows air. Anyways,after Michael Jackson’s demise which obviously lead to the cancellation of the tour, Orianthi released a solo album mixing today’s poppy sounds with some near illegal guitar licks, which by the way are all played by her. Beautiful and talented but unfortunately she chose to release a song called “According to You” as her first single. Don’t get me wrong, the song is catchy and is also getting a lot of radio play but there’s sadness to it that I can’t stand. It reflects our society today and I for one am not going to take it!

The theme of this song is comparing what her dead beat boyfriend thinks of her as oppose to how she is seen through the eyes of a new love interest. It’s a fun tug-a-war scenario that picks all the negative qualities that her boring companion possess in contrast to the wonderful man that Orianthi is totally crushin’ on (I’m assumin’ he fine too. Mmhmm). So it is quite suiting that each sentence of the song, for the most part, starts with her singing “According to you," blah blah blah and then “According to him,” blah blah blah. To paraphrase, she’s stating that “you suck, he’s better.”

Here’s the sad part. Never once does she sing, “According to me.” Me, as in her. Because it’s not about what other think of you as much as it is how to perceive yourself girlfriend. Sure Derek over there may think you’re stupid, useless and can’t do anything right. And sure Julio over here thinks you’re funny, irresistible and everything he ever wanted. But what do you think, Orianthi? I ain’t no Doctor Phil or nothing, but I wanna know how you feelin’. What do you see when you look in the mirror? I believe her first single should have gone a little something like this.

“Hey! Hey! Look at me! I’m hot and I’m talented! Yeah yeah yeah! *guitar solo* If you don’t like me, go eat a dick! Westside! *guitar solo*”

Self perception is such an important part of growing as a human being. A lot of individuals, if not all, have had that “According to you” tune stuck in their head from time to time, which is not a bad thing so long as they let their own opinions supersede all others. So, Orianthi, let’s start with the (wo)man in the mirror. Sham-on! Naw’I’m’sayin’ Naw’I’m’sayin’? But then again, that’s according to me.

Falling: An Essay

Tragedy, as bad as it seems, is a big part of life. I know, in a way, it’s insensitive to say but there is truth behind it. To some degree, we’ve all been there. Plummeting from one height to another and in transition we vow to change our lives in some way. What’s the word? Falling. Happens to the best of us. The fall of Rome; Fall as a season; falling stars. Heck, even Niagara falls (Ba doom, chee! Thank you, I’ll be here all night). But seriously, isn’t life just a series of downward spirals? I mean, fucken gravity is always on our asses.

A few years back, on the rooftop of one of my 8 floor work buildings a mother duck and her babies nested. After a couple of days that very mother was seen pushing her ducklings off the edge in an attempt to teach them to fly. They fell, for the most part. Imagine the fear that went through their little ducky minds. Cruel as it was, that mother duck motivated her babies the best way she knew how and it worked. The ducklings glided to solid ground without a scratch.

Morning recess of my fourth year of elementary school, a boy named Brian and I were hanging off the side of the white metal twirly slide that stood 2 stories high, centered in our school playground. It was an attempt to stay away from a girl named Candace, who somehow was deemed the carrier of the cooties. She had come speeding down the slide, hugging the side as if she were a bobsled racer. So much so that she bumped into Brian’s hands, which were the essential factor in his balance at the time. Needless to say, Brian fell. He broke his right arm, nose, and was concussed. We never hung off the side of that, or any other slide again.

On an evening drive a couple of weeks back I experienced something I never expected. The traffic lights in front of me were red, my left hand rested on the steering wheel, my right foot pressed on the brakes, and my eyes locked in on this gorgeous girl sitting in the passenger seat. Words spilled out her cute curved lips about everything that I dreamed of hearing a girl say; mustangs and motorbikes, tattoos and traveling, movies and Fat Franks hot dogs that you can only get in the summer streets. I was speechless. I leaned over, interrupting her monologue about heaven itself, shutting her up in the sweetest way I knew how. My lips pressed hers like it would never be used again, not even sex could out do what we had in that moment. Our lungs cheer us on, exhausting themselves and only an intimate stare could express our approval of such a kiss. Suddenly, car horns honked urgently! We break our gaze to find that my truck, our transport, now sits in the middle of the intersection, with cars from all sides honking in disbelief! I screamed! She screamed! We all screamed, not for ice cream, but for a cool exit! However, there was nothing cool about making out in the middle of an intersection and blocking traffic. I put the vehicle in reverse and backed up to where we had started out, before the talking; before the kiss. Then we laughed.

“What happened??” she asked.

“My foot must have eased off the brakes when we were kissing,” I gathered. But it was more than just a lack of muscle strength. In that moment I had truly fallen for her.

There’s falls that cause people to try again, falls that make you walk away, and falls that make you hope you’ll never hit the ground. I’ve seen endless footage of skateboarders falling off the same stair railing 6 or 7 times, trying to land that 360 kick flip just right. My friend’s little girl who has just started walking falls on an hourly bases but she gets right back up. And then there’s falls that just make you smile for a long long time. Life is all about falling my friends. When was the last time you fell?

Monday, April 12, 2010

If I Leave You Behind, Still Know That You're Mine

This ink I write aims to kiss you good night
So that your dreams are of my return
For my natural scent will now surely be spent
As far as memory span is concerned

Yet it will never fracture your eyes' god-like stature
Even if I should ever go blind
So I attempt to imitate at a rather desperate rate
Hoping that you'll never forget mine

But through trivial instigation comes a pessimistic creation
I watch myself fade away from your border
And to no fault of yours, like footprints at the shores
Tides of time claims chaos to order

Alas, through points I digress, ultimately breathing is best
I'll put up with the toss and turns
This ink, though not vapor, is only as good as its paper
So keep it close where flames won’t burn

Friday, April 9, 2010

Gradual Incline is Better than High Plateauing?

The florist shoves the last decoration into the overflowing spring bouquet I order on a Saturday afternoon of Easter long weekend. She gives me advice in-between pushing and tying and snipping (whoever just oOoOo’d, get your mind out of the gutter, sicko!). “Remember to be a gentleman! No parent will appreciate a rude boy! Trust me on this! Elbows off the table, speak with proper grammar, that stupid thing you do when you laugh, stop it, and for goodness sake take off those fake gold teeth!”

“But I love my $20 grillz!” Sigh. I reluctantly throw my bling into an empty tin trash can. It glistened dully on its decent.

“All that, coupled with this masterpiece I’ve made will definitely guarantee a good first impression!”

Oh, if you haven’t figured it out, I’m meeting my girlfriend’s parents today. As I stand here listening to the florist, I couldn’t help but think of my friend Robert, who once wore sweats and a hoodie to his girlfriend’s family Thanksgiving dinner, meeting her parents for the first time. I laughed to myself a little and shook my head. I imagine that his girlfriend begged and plead her parents into giving him a second chance. HAHAHAHA stupid Robert. Or is he?

First impressions are such a double edge sword isn’t it? I mean, we all want to make a grand entrance into the lives of those we meet but “how grand?” is the question. Undersell yourself and you may lose all chances of getting together with those people again. So we dress in our best attire, plan conversations in our heads, bring some flowers, chew some gum, spray on the Cool Water cologne. But can we sometimes go too far and oversell ourselves? Have you ever sat in front of an interviewer for a new job or shaken the hand of your girlfriend’s father and catch yourself speaking with a rich English accent when you were born and raised in the snowy town in Canada? Or you got some inside information about what the interviewer or father likes to hear so you speak of the economy or hunting animals even though you’ve never cared much about neither? Sounds ridiculous but I assure you that it happens all the time.

In fact, first impressions have become somewhat of a be all and end all as though it were an audition for a musical or something. I can hear the show-tunes faintly playing in the background now, “God I hope I get it! I hope I get it!” Naturally, when the stakes are high people start to desperately reach to become the person that is ideal for acceptance, rather than just being themselves. And through successfully gaining their audiences’ approval, they ultimately, in the long run, fail. Let’s face it, all the flowers and jokes and accents; those aren’t our natural traits. It’s the above and beyond actions that we take to impress. And after all said that done, we go home and relax and fall right back into the traits that make us who we are; the not so desired sometimes corny person. One day the ones we are impressing will catch us relaxing and discover the lies!

Maybe Robert has it figured out. Take a look at high jumpers. They don’t come into the gymnasium, or wherever high jumpers jump, saying, “Hey, raise the bar up to my personal best height first. I want to impress the pants of the judges early.” No way. Sure, they might make that jump but their next jumps will most likely be disastrous because they already did all they can do. Last I heard, trying to beat your personal best is not the easiest task.

Whether it be first impression or setting standards for any sort of relationship, the best approach, however corny it may be, is to approach comfortably. If you like wearing sweats to formal dinners, do so. And if you get nasty looks and banned from any further gatherings, at least you know where you stand. Which is much better than find yourself jumping for unreachable heights in future events. I’m not saying to initially set that bar to unreasonably low heights. No, that would be disrespectful. I’m saying put it to where you’re most comfortable, that way it’s truthful, and everyone should respect that. Remember, too high equals short term satisfaction (unless you’re a professional limbo-er, then I’d say “don’t set the bar too low,” I guess). We’re planning long term here folks. See, in Robert’s case, his girlfriend and her family will probably be ecstatic if he ever decides to wear a clean pair of dress pants one day. Sweats equals setting the bar very low. Be a gentleman? Please! We’re all better off being losers and then working our way up to decent human beings! Then it’s a pleasant surprise.

I phone the suit store and cancel my rental, realizing now that I should just stick to my plaid shirt and jeans. I’ll still leave the grillz in the garbage can though.