November 7th, Hurry Up!

A person holding the conch, being told the floor is yours, or being passed the microphone; different ways for different time periods. Jumping on a soapbox so that others can hear what one has to say is nothing new. Ignore, for a moment, the soapbox analogy. Examples of speaking to groups of people is nearly as constant as the world's longest running profession of prostitution, which could be a bit analogous to the source of irritation that prompts me to write this morning.

Come November 6, 2012, Americans will cast their vote in response to a months - or years - long process of several men trying to assume the office of the President of the United States. Other laws and offices that will be voted upon, but none, in my opinion, will make me happier to see come and go. Keeping my focus on American Presidential elections, I'll share some of what I understand concerning the history of the American Presidential campaign.

In it's earlier stages, campaigning for the office of President didn't have the benefit of reaching the same number of people that can be reached in recent years, a change owed to radio, television, and so on. Let's also acknowledge that people had shit to do, farms to tend, and families to raise; time was better spent hard at work rather than sitting idly listening to a person who really didn't matter in then daily lives, at least not perceptively so. Organized events were still in use, so there were still recorded picnics, parades and rallies that a candidate would use as vehicles to speak to the people. These still happen today, which are awesome opportunities for candidates to get their word out and endear themselves to the people which affect the outcome of the election.

Behind the scenes activity was evident too. Interested entities would organize these events as the candidate rode town to town. Buttons would be made, flyers printed, and banners sewn; all so the candidates presence would be felt wherever they were - and were not - able to go. A goal of "breed familiarity so that others vote for you" was still prevalent back then.

I imagine there are no less buttons and flyers these days, but the behind the scenes work is even more apparent. Turn on the TV and see an advertisement ending with "I'm (so & so) and I approve this message." The phone rings and on the other line is an automated voice preaching the amazing good on the horizon, should their particular candidate be elected, which is certain, but only with your vote. Drive through any random neighborhood and you'll see lawns planted with sign after sign expressing the homeowner's Presidential go-to guy. Talk show hosts become venues to gather support for a candidate, celebrity luminaries lend their support, and even musical artists stage shows to raise money for their chosen candidate, many artists of which who once sought to stick it to "the man." Fashion, even, has become a popular avenue for supporting one's chosen candidate. The interweb has become saturated with people seeking to have their two-cents heard. I wonder, is nothing exempt from political flag waving and rabble rousing? I'm surprised that food isn't injected with something that turns our bodily functions into campaign advertisements.

My irritation rose just writing the last paragraph. I don't even care to count the words or sentences within. Presidential election years are beyond irritating, and I know exactly why I feel this way. It has nothing to do with the ridiculous derision on both sides of the fence, though this, too, bugs the living shit out of me. It's not the arguing and endless debating amongst the little people (meaning "us"). It isn't even the campaign strategies mentioned above that send me over the edge. No, the source of this annoyance is far more insidious.

Seeing as there is no specific day in which campaigning begins, the start begins long before election year has arrived. Often times, a candidate is tapped for future ascendancy long before their designated time arrives. At first it's barely noticeable, finding it's way into the media like a slow moving cancer moving it's way through our lymphatic system, just waiting to embed itself and make itself known. Before you can protest it, you're favorite TV show is being interrupted or cancelled in lieu of a debate. Commercial times are filled with campaign spots. Written media becomes more focused on the topic. Facebook becomes increasingly permeated by candidate support. Soon, that's the only thing most of us talk about at bars and over tea & crumpets, not that I have a damn clue just what is a "crumpet."

Perhaps, like political opinions, this is an inherited trait from my father. I've listened to him for years grumble about the amount of time a candidate has to campaign in an effort to secure his/her goal. He believes, as I believe, that presidential campaigning should be limited - by law - to a specific amount of time. Not that I personally can say what timeframe is best, and even to what extent campaign efforts ought to be prohibited. Still, I find myself wondering things like "doesn't he have a job to do" or "how better could we spend all the money wasted on those campaigns?"

Yes, I know I'm a lowly sheep, however wayward. Unlike the men and women running for various political offices, I don't "know" anything; I only have "ideas."Ideas are infinitely better than knowing, in my opinion. Ideas can be changed more easily, are more flexible and don't require the same level of commitment. They are quickly adaptable and open to suggestion. Yes, I have...ideas.

Not entirely applicable to my rant, but...

Titty Sprinkles

Yes, Titty Sprinkles

For anyone aware of my brand of humor, you know that my particular brand is often morally ambiguous and left of center. Embarrassing, socially unacceptable, or downright offensive? I've been accused of each and then some. Sacrilegious has even been applied to my comedic throughts. There was a time when I was too offensive for a Hot Topic, a very "non-corporate" store slangin' counterculture goods unable to handle a few F-Bombs being spoken aloud. That's for another time. Besides, it's time to contemplate titty sprinkles.

So, just what are "titty sprinkles," you might ask. I thought it was obvious. They're sprinkles having to do with titties, duh! How silly of you to even wonder such things!

In reality, I have no idea what the hell they are or the origins to the term, nor am I really concerned. As I type this, however, there is a wave of Tweets & Retweets all over Twitter, courtesy of my beloved Suicide Girls. Juvenile, I suppose, to laugh at that bit of nonsensical vulgarity. It even brings to mind memories of prepubescence and the very immature humor that is often part of that era in our lives. Anyone remember laughing when someone said "let's do it" or "let's erect this thing?" Cue the Beavis & Butthead laughter. 

I have no problem with women, as long as they stay in the kitchen.

What exactly do I find funny? Hard to clarify, really. Everything is within the situation. I can laugh at the picture to the left, but in another situation, I'll find no humor in it at all. Jokes that concern prejudice will likely make me laugh, however amoral they may be. Sexual innuendos are a constant source of humor & flirtation, regardless of the their perceived immaturity of others. Hell, even an inappropriately place swear word can bring a smile to my face.

Regardless of the butt (hehehe) of the joke, there is a time and place when and where it is definitely NOT appropriate. Not that I'm the one to make that judgement, though I will frown on things when they seem inappropriate. You won't hear me crack a Jew joke at a Holocaust memorial, nor will you find me telling you the latest black joke at a KFC.

Seemed appropriate, given my recent comment concerning Jews.

Exactly why I, or anyone else for that matter, finds humor in more offensive material is a good question. For example, I find it disheartening and saddening when pondering the decimation of the Jewish people during WW2. I can only imagine what it was like to be slowly ostracized by one time neighbors, carried off in over - crowded trains, stripped of nearly all dignity, forced to watch our people suffer and die, and then - ultimately - divested of the last thing we have to call our own; our life. Being able to recognize, if not fully comprehend, those horrors, why do I still find myself able to laugh at a joke making light of that blight on human history? 

In spite of the blatant disrespect, I still laugh, or at the very least, smirk at such things. In the picture below, I know others find discomfort in such an image, yet, I can't help myself. I'm weak and vile and hypocritical, or so I acknowledge. I can easily reprimand others for making such jokes, arguing that it's not appropriate, but then arguing "place and time" when I myself am called out. 

WINNING!

Ignoring the more serious, I friend who once said she had "a mouth that could make a sailor blush." Only understanding this years later, I began wondering why if it's inappropriate in one situation, when is it ever appropriate? Perhaps it's the break in decorum that gives rise to the laughter, a sort of disbelief to which your mind confuses the appropriate response. It can be confusing, hearing your father scream all manner of obscenities when fixing the fuckin' plumbing or the goddamned car only to scorned for making use of the same choice words. How the plumbing can "fuck" or why God would choose to "damn that car" is beyond me, on that note.

Again with the break in decorum, or what is considered "couth." Why can I, at 32 years of age, become irritated with children who bust a grumpy, as my nieces refer to it, but cackle like a demon when I do it behind closed doors? Sexual innuendos are disrespectful to a more serious act, but so easy to make light of outside of mature conversation. The examples are endless, and very much subject to opinion. 

Assuming we're all guilty of these transgressions, I wonder if anyone else thinks as I do now. How many of us acknowledge what we find to be immature, yet still treat things so flippantly and facetious?

Leaving you a bit abruptly, I bid you adieu. 'Til next time....

Classy, but so poignant.

Movin' on up...

"...to the east side!"

Greetings and salutations, my beloved Andy-villains! Though our congregation is few in number, I will continue to preach. I hope that you continue to read, and, more importantly, enjoy my rants, ramblings and revelations.

My earlier expressed desire to be a Murse is in jeopardy. I won't go so far as to say dead and buried, but  it's nowhere near the perceived vocational calling it once was. Events have come to pass that have made me reevaluate that pathway, and have also given me cause to consider another, albeit it an older, once desired one. It's now that I am strongly leaning towards that older interest, while putting the more recent desire on the back burner. It might, however, make more sense if you allow me to put on the often rose-tinted glasses of the past, and let me elaborate further.

During a simpler time, back when I was cradled within the hallowed halls of my teenage alma mater, I had a knack for writing. Not that I was then an avid author of anything especially engaging, but it was a telante nonetheless. My rhetoric was often a source of complimentary statements, but even with that encouragement, I did not take writing seriously enough to consider "writing" as a chosen profession. I had entertained thoughts of becoming an English teacher, which is still being mulled over, but never anything akin to strict writing. Maybe I just wasn't sure who'd be interested in hearing my voice lent to reporting or perhaps I thought I lacked creativity. Even today, I feel that my ability with words is greater than that spark of creativity, the same spark that helps more prolific writers/authors to pour out all their creative thoughts onto the page.

If only men penmanship had enough game to use one of these.

Now, however, I find myself consider using my ability to form written discourse as more than just a past time. Be it for my own creative purposes or for an entity that requires someone with my talents. Perhaps in time, I'll begin to write a bit more creatively and produce short stories/novels of my own. Education, may also be a beneficial choice. By educating others, I can (possibly) imbue youth with an appreciation of the written word, but also maintain a continued learning of the rules of composition.

The Jeffersonian humor earlier in the blog is less indicative of any actual progress in life, and more revelatory of my decisions having been narrowed and solidified. It's also a sort of throw out to my Special Lady Friend, Phanny B. Relating to both - writing and Phanny - I feel as if I'm excited and comfortable with my decisions, that things can only "move on up" from here. I feel happy thinking that, even if poor, I'll be able to do something that I'm passionate in doing. Again, even if poor, I won't have to look beyond the Spexican at my side, knowing that I have what I want.

Although you may already be humming to something along the lines of "duhn, duhn, duh-duhnnnnn," allow me address something. I really don't know if "she" is "the one." I mean, in this day and age, there can be more "the one;" just look at the Highlander franchise for validation of this precept.  What I'm merely saying is that I want to take it further with her. I want to explore what a life spent with might be like. We're not even a full year into our relationship, but I have incredibly strong feelings for her.

I must've done something right in a previous life.

Why I want to avoid talk of weddings and marriage is in part due to many variables. I'm not sure if I'm the marrying type. I haven't been entirely confident of my decisions in the past, a lack of confidence that runs deep enough to cause more than a bit of anxiety. I want to explore a more intimate life with and see if any issues might arise that are "irreconcilable," so that we know before tie the knot.

There's a lot of indecision, that I've not hidden in many of my blogs. Important, however, is that I'm beginning to feel more certain: about life, my studies, Phanny too.  I may not be sure of things, but I'm beginning to feel that way. I just wish certainty had been less reluctant to meet me sooner.

There's more to share, as always is the case, but I'm signing off for the night. It's nearly 2am, and I'm at work and can't think of much more to say about my goings on. I'm going to kick up my feet, eat a granola bar, and prepare to taser anyway attempting to run.

Let's all be like the Fonz,
Andy

"Love, Peace, and Bacon Grease!"

Nakedness

A man, completely naked save for being covered in cling wrap, walks into his psychiatrist's office. The psychiatrist takes one look at the man and proclaims, "I can clearly see your nuts."

Jokes aside, I'm here to talk about being naked. Not in a pornographic, bow-chicka-wow, ready to get down to doin' the nasty sort of way, but simply just being in a state of wearing no clothing.

Which brings to mind a series of questions and suggestions. When was the last time (besides getting some action) that you were naked? In the shower, perhaps? Did you immediately get dressed after the shower? Did you remain naked for any length of time after the shower? There are other questions that warrant being asked. Questions like, "do you sleep naked," "do you walk around the house naked," or "do anything naked outside of showering or sex?"

Not that any of these questions truly require answers. Share if you want, but they're really posed to make you think. They are of a mildly personal nature, so no worries if you keep things to yourself. Coming across as a creepy pervert was never intended.

I'm more intent on opening up discussion on the topic, for several reasons. One of the reasons being is that in recent years I haven't found enough time to be naked, other than sleeping and washing. Circumstances led me to choosing to live at home with parents for a time, and circumstances have - recently - made it a necessity. Not really interested in explaining to them my desire to be naked, I grin and tolerate a more clothed period of my life.

For the record, I don't consider myself a "nudist" or "naturist" by any means. Yes, I've been to resorts, but "nudist" is a label which some may try to place on me and I shun such labels. I simply find it more comfortable and enjoyable to not wear anything. Also, as enjoyable being naked outdoors might be, I feel no strong desire to go out of my way to be naked in public. I have no qualms about seeing others naked, nor being naked in front of others, but I've never felt compelled to organize naked events. Again, to reiterate, I just enjoy being naked.

Recently, I had a dream in which I rocked it with naught but a smile on my face and the breeze on my backside. The result of this dream invigorated my desire to be in the buff. Previously thinking myself not needing to be nude, it's now quite the contrary. I desperately miss spending more time naked. Even to the point I'd consider a resort in the near future, warmer weather permitting. 

Some may wonder why I want to live a more exposed lifestyle, and it's not always make them understand. Simple to explain, but not so easy in the understanding. I'll try to make myself clear.

NOT something I need to do nude.

Things I'd do naked, if it were more of an option: 

- read

- lay around

- feed the dog

- sit on the porch and drink a beer

- play video games

- go for a walk (legality and locale depending)

Get the picture? It doesn't matter what I'd do, it's just a matter of feeling more at ease and relaxed. Not that I'd force it on my friends, and there's also matters of safety to consider. For example, you won't see me roller blading without clothing and protective gear any time soon. Likewise, when the temps drop, I'm going to bundle up as much as the next person.

Relating to an earlier blog, I find it therapeutic and enhancing of meditation. Depending on the goals of meditation, being naked can really expose the body and mind to a variety of stimuli. You become more aware of changes in temperature and of the force of the wind, if outside. 

I do this all the time too!

Contributing to it's therapeutic effect, when naked there is no chance of feeling restricted or bothered by clothes. Not that I don't need to lose a few pounds, but my wardrobe has been ill-fitting for some time. Drop my draws and it's on like Donkey Kong! Long have I heard women can't wait to get home to take off their bras, so I know it can't be too hard to understand. Also, when cold at night, add more blankets and remove clothing. You'll stay warmer that way.

Addressing a prudish view of nudity, there is a belief that nudity equals sex, which is far from the case. Being naked may expose our sex organs, but just by taking off my clothes doesn't inherently mean a person wants sex. Using my own views as an example, I get more aroused by a woman in various stages of undress than when she is entirely naked. Think of strip clubs: how enticing would it be for the women to just stand on stage naked without the dancing or an undressing? My point is, arousal is more situational, requiring a building up process. Foreplay or pheromones, there is more to sex than just being naked. 

Dare to Bare, my Andy-villians! I'll go about my business and do my thing, and you shall do yours. Think I'm gross, weird, or a perv, then so be it.

While not "me," it isn't too far from my nude reality.

I'm tired (I choose)...

Not sure what I wanted to title this blog. It's true that I'm tired, but of what really? Many things drain me, leaving me feeling devoid of energy and lacking the necessary will propel myself forward. I've tried fooling myself, before, by thinking that I'm existing in the present. While I definitely am existing in the present, I would say it's far from living, which is what a growing, maturing entity does when they are further up on the hierarchy of needs, as put down my Maslow. I move through day-by-day motions, spend time with my Special Lady Friend, and allow things to happen to me. Not wanting many of these things to happen to me, but, alas, I have no energy. 

Borrowing the quote, "you can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one," I seek to express where I think I am (transitioning to "was") in life. My focus has been so intensely focused on the past couple years that I have been unable to see my current as anything but an extension of what had recently come to pass. It's simple to let it happen. I began to fear my own actions, thinking no matter what I did would end up being the wrong move. Inaction proved to be a harmful as well, seeing that my failure to act resulted in things biting me in the ass, things that could have been prevented.

I'm tired of looking in the past with so much disdain. I'm tired of wallowing in my damned, olympic sized pool of pity. I'm tired of having so much fear that my actions will result in failure. I'm tired of being...well...tired, physically and mentally.

Thirty-two years old, and I have the aches and pains of someone much older. God Heaven forbid I bring a child into this world in my state. I'd have a stroke before the kid reached the double digits. I can't even walk up the stairs to my girlfriend's apartment without feeling exhausted, albeit mildly. The general weakness contributes (I'm sure) to a weakened immune system, which adds to the overall malaise that typifies my day. And this is just the physical of which I complain. The mental weights are holding me down, which only exacerbates the whole situation.

Of course, it's almost a situation of which came first: the chicken or the egg. In this example, however, it's what came first: the physical sickness or the mental sickness? Not that it truly matters, at least not as far as I'm concerned. Changes have to be made, and the body isn't going to move itself without the mind. Now that I think about it, it is the mind's fault that I'm as far down as I've found myself now. By default, it's the mind's responsibility to move first in order to make any changes. I have to make the "choice" to move forward and keep my gaze that way as well. Start living rather than just existing. 

I choose to re-embrace meditation. So often, meditation has proven to calm me down and clarify my thoughts. Nearly everything should be meditated upon from here on out. That way, it'll be thinking of things several times over. Not to say I won't meditate just to relax. Sometimes just breathing and being aware of my own stillness is rejuvenating enough.

I choose to take a more proactive approach to my own health. In areas of food, I want to ingest better things, healthier things for me. I will be careful not to dwell on my lapses too much. This desire to avoid focusing on failures extends to physical exercise as well. My activity levels must increase if I want to live a great deal longer than I likely will if things remain unchanged. Too often I start a program only to abandon it, and while a "first step" is always necessary, so is a second step and beyond equally necessary.

I choose to begin living up to the quotes on my arm. I will start everyday off with a smile, and get it over with. I will - smaller steps at first - be the change I wish to see in the world. I will remember a beloved Seussism; "Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is nobody alive that is youer than you." These words will help me find empowerment to make good on my earlier stated choices.

Drawing this to a close, I'll add that it's a return to positivity I desire. Not that I wholly want to ignore the bad, or forget, but I want to be free of the mental prison which I, and life, has constructed around me. I want to develop, to progress mentally, physically and spiritually. I want to become a person that feels worthy of his own love, and of the love given him by others.

Namaste....

Ruminations on God and Faith

This blog began a short time ago as a status update in which I wanted to express certain thoughts and ideas. It soon became so much more than a few simple lines, and I felt it necessary to move it here instead. Hopefully it doesn't bore you to pieces or make you hate me. If it does, however, then so be it.

Having a relationship with, having faith in, God is often a troubling thing. On one hand, I know that were we to meet face-to-face (as much as one really can meet him/her/it face-to-face anyway), I will be humbled in the presence of such a powerful being; filled with awe, but not fearful as many might suggest. There are so many questions I have and too many problems with God's actions to just complacently open my heart and mind. Comparing God to our parent(s), do we open our hearts unconditionally to them, even if we can't reconcile to certain perceived affronts or evils perpetrated by them?

Many would provide arguments, for and against God, and to them I say, go right ahead. Cite scripture and tell me where I am wrong. Point out the fallacies of having faith in God. Tell me how I need to open my heart and submit. Give me a proverbial road map to spirituality. Most words will fall on mildly deaf ears, though not deaf ears due to an unwillingness to learn.

I have entered into a relationship with God, a sort of covenant, if you will. I will come to him, not as a subservient individual, but as a near equal. Not equal in the sense that I can create material things or will things into existence, but in the same way that, with my limited sphere of influence, I can affect change and inspire people to greater things. It is within my power - through understanding, compassion, and love - to example for people how best to live alongside our brothers and sisters. In that way do I see us (God and myself) as equals.

Cry out, "but Andy, you've got it all wrong! You make too many mistakes or you're not nearly as wise as the Lord God." I argue that God has achieved wisdom through meditation over the years, and through trial and error. It's apparent that he has changed his mind on many issues over the years, and that his love and patience have increased as a result.

The Book of Genesis details a simple truth: we were made in his image and likeness, men and women both. Not in a physical way, but in a metaphysical and very emotional way. Whatever he is mentally and emotionally capable of, so are we. The very nature of this belief provides an explanation beyond a simple thinking of "we look like God." I believe, it suggests that "God (also) looks like us." We're so perfect a reflection that whatever we are capable of, so is he as well. Read the old testament if you disagree with me, and take note the number of times he smites us out of disappointment or anger at violation of his commandments.

But it's not all anger and smiting (I love that word); he has matured since then, grown more patient and tolerant. Relating to an earlier statement I made, that his love and patience have increased, I only view these changes as confirmations of my beliefs.

If you seek to prove me wrong, by all means try, but don't be prepared for any real debate; in most cases I only participate to learn, with no real intent to change others' ways of thinking. Maybe I am wrong, and maybe I'm so far from the path that I shall never attain salvation. If that's the case, however, then I'm okay with the alternative. I'd rather burn for my beliefs than be rewarded for not being true to myself.

Monday Morning Musings...

Morning my Andyvillians! I bring to you tidings of the goings on in my world and that of the world immediately surrounding yours truly. Yes, it's a little early in the AM as I type this, but I'm inspired to creativity as I watch the rolling credits of a particularly stellar film - The Fountain. Just how many times I've watched this film is beyond me, but know that it seduced it's way into my Top 10 before I'd even finished watching it. As it continues to grow on me, it stands a chance of eventually displacing The Big Lebowski as my numero uno film of all time.

Pretty, isn't it? Image from the film via Google.

During one of my last ventures in writing, I really let loose a number of negative emotions concerning a number of issues that have been really weighing me down and fostering a sense of hopelessness in life. The particular issue on my mind as I type is the change in employment status. In the parlance of idiots with little grammatical ability: i gotz uh job! Not just any job either, though nor is it my dream job. It was an opportunity to work with troubled youth, which is closely associated with my career wishes for the future. Having come across the position early in the summer, I quickly became excited, though as it became less likely I would be hired, I began to lose hope. Even after an initial, very positive interview, I still had little cause to feel positive.

Rest at ease my chickadees, my fears concerning the position had proven to be misplaced as I was offered the job and have since been working for nigh on two weeks. Feeling very gainfully employed at this point, I can now turn my thoughts to other issues that need amending before I can resume my position as the ridiculously happy turd that annoys others with his optimism. School issues, relationship issues, and issues of a more or less serious natures. 

Something recent: I've been been feeling a bit melancholy concerning the change in status of friend - ships. Without pointing fingers, as rarely is it ever one-sided, I've been watching a friend with whom I was extremely close during high school and for the majority of the years since high school. He's doing his own thing and I'm doing mine, but I believe that I'm feeling it more acutely than he is, that he doesn't care about the change. Not that I haven't tried to remain friends, but I wonder if I've tried hard enough or not. Maybe I'll write more on this topic soon, because it doesn't apply solely to the individual on my mind right now, but he's the most relevant to the topic. 

For some odd reason I'm in the mood to throw in Casino Royale and watch Daniel Craig throw down as a more hardcore Bond. Until next time...

Why? Because it's fucking sweet!