kittenwar.com
You know I can't go near them, but this is too cute.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
Female Orgasm: Proof Of God [one man's perspective]
http://sfgate.com/columnists/morford/
Female Orgasm: Proof Of God
Science can't explain it, evolution can't understand it and men can only lie there in awe
- By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
Friday, May 27, 2005
Women have orgasms because they can. Women have orgasms because it's the right thing to do.
Women have orgasms because by and large they refuse to launch monstrous ultraviolent illegal soul-deadening wars over oilsucking phallocentric powermad landwhoring BS powergrabs and therefore they fully deserve all the inexplicable otherworldly cosmically infused clitorally energized pleasures they can get.
Did you catch that keyword? That note of strangeness? It was right there, in the word inexplicable. Because apparently, as far as science is concerned and despite the obvious reasons I assert above, no one really seems to know exactly why women have orgasms at all.
Observe, won't you, a new book by a soft-spoken scientist named Dr. Elisabeth Lloyd, from Indiana U, that basically claims there is no justifiable evolutionary need for the female orgasm whatsoever, that it really serves no known biological purpose and that it's becoming, therefore, increasingly obsolete and redundant and more or less unnecessary.
Note how much fun Dr. Lloyd must be at parties. Or on a date.
After all, the book concludes, the clitoris merely exists to create excitement to promote reproduction, but the female orgasm is merely a weird biological afterthought, a remembrance of things past, a wisp of a hint of something that came long before that maybe only our ape ancestors could fully appreciate and make good use of, mostly for generating a more potent, primitive urge to make little furry ape babies.
But now witness, argues the book, the heartbreaking number of modern non-ape women who have tragically low or nonexistent sex drives but who still feel absolutely compelled to pop out a nice brood of offspring. The female orgasm, clearly, ain't for procreation. It has no effect on the transport of sperm. It doesn't drive maternal desire. So, if the urge to orgasm has no connection with the urge to procreate, why do women get them at all?
This is the great thing about science. It gets all flabbergasted and confounded and scrunchy when confronted with things it doesn't quite understand and that it can't quite figure out and that don't fit into neat categories, especially if said things are astounding explosive events that make women moan and writhe and gasp and grin and feel their deep inborn prelapsarian connection to just about all of eternity, in the space of about 17 seconds.
There is no room in this mode of science for, you know, mystery. There is no room for the deeply funky or the hotly mystical, the moist divine wild card. This is because stiff little science tends to cram all possibility for a given explanation into the great maw of cold beautiful logic and spits out, sadly and tellingly and almost without fail, the cosmic hunks of mystical possibility as if they were indigestible bones.
That scientific view is, of course, one way to look at it. There is, naturally, another.
Let us open up a little, go deep and explore and probe further and say, ahh yes. Because it can also be very easily argued that the female orgasm is, quite simply, the Great Mystical Link, the hot divine thing that connects and communicates and interrelates between heaven and Earth, mind and body, soul and sky, dream state and anal bead, Astroglide and God.
Maybe, in other words, the female orgasm doesn't need a purely biological purpose. Maybe it's about something more. Maybe it has -- dare we say it? -- a spiritual purpose. Vibrational. Transcendental. Gasp! Hide the children.
Well, why not? Have you seen a wild female orgasm lately? Have you borne witness? Because you really, really should. One good look and the fact comes clear: The thing is at once directly hardwired to the deep chthonic Earth while at the same time has the bright shimmering cosmos on speed dial. It's true. It's obvious. Any good and deeply felt female climax is clearly a subatomic vibrational pulse of such unusual and kaleidoscopic frequency that the only ones who can truly hear its messages are purple orchids and bright red snakes and the aliens who built the Great Pyramids. All hail.
So then. If you want to argue that anything has been lost to the mists of time and awareness, let's argue that. Let's lament the demise of that link, the great orgasmic disconnect, the massive cultural spin downward toward sexual terror and orgasmic stagnation and Laura Bush.
In other words, let's argue that the female orgasm, far from becoming obsolete and useless, is more necessary and vital than ever before, because it is the orgasm that allows us a glimpse of what lies beyond, of what we can become, of all that there is and all we want to be and all we want to become and it's all wrapped up in a white-hot moment of transcendental moaning hope. Plus, as I understand it, they're just tremendous amounts of fun.
So now, if Lloyd's book is to be believed, the fact that women are losing the orgasmic impulse, the fact that the female water slide is not worshipped and studied and taught like a joyful religion or glorious deity in this dazed and confused and Bush-ravaged culture, and the sad fact that every girl is not given a new Hitachi Magic Wand as a beautiful rite of passage when she hits 14, these are more than merely the great tragedies of our age. They might very well be the things keeping us from progressing at all.
Which is to say, deny the power of the mystico-erotic spiritual gasp at your peril. Look to science to explain away all our slick needful quiverings as mere rote mechanical factions, and watch the spirit wither and cringe and say uh, hello, over here, please, what the hell is wrong with you people?
The female orgasm is just useless fun? Just a vestigial remnant of our licentious monkey ancestors, increasingly obsolete and something that will soon be completely replaced with lots of yawning and sighing and a slow steady gaze at the ceiling as she ponders paint colors for the kitchen while the man sweats and grunts and enjoys 2.3 minutes of primitive emasculated gorilla lust? Hardly. Leave that for the Republicans and the Christian Right.
Woman's orgasm has no evolutionary purpose? Bull. Woman's orgasm is proof of evolution, baby. Spiritual, karmic, celestial evolution. It is what propels us forward, brings us light and awareness and deep laughing cosmic moan and makes much of life worth living. And if we lose our grip on that notion and insist on devolving at our current rate, we will be in deep trouble indeed.
Magic Wands all around, Dr. Lloyd. It's the right thing to do.
Female Orgasm: Proof Of God
Science can't explain it, evolution can't understand it and men can only lie there in awe
- By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
Friday, May 27, 2005
Women have orgasms because they can. Women have orgasms because it's the right thing to do.
Women have orgasms because by and large they refuse to launch monstrous ultraviolent illegal soul-deadening wars over oilsucking phallocentric powermad landwhoring BS powergrabs and therefore they fully deserve all the inexplicable otherworldly cosmically infused clitorally energized pleasures they can get.
Did you catch that keyword? That note of strangeness? It was right there, in the word inexplicable. Because apparently, as far as science is concerned and despite the obvious reasons I assert above, no one really seems to know exactly why women have orgasms at all.
Observe, won't you, a new book by a soft-spoken scientist named Dr. Elisabeth Lloyd, from Indiana U, that basically claims there is no justifiable evolutionary need for the female orgasm whatsoever, that it really serves no known biological purpose and that it's becoming, therefore, increasingly obsolete and redundant and more or less unnecessary.
Note how much fun Dr. Lloyd must be at parties. Or on a date.
After all, the book concludes, the clitoris merely exists to create excitement to promote reproduction, but the female orgasm is merely a weird biological afterthought, a remembrance of things past, a wisp of a hint of something that came long before that maybe only our ape ancestors could fully appreciate and make good use of, mostly for generating a more potent, primitive urge to make little furry ape babies.
But now witness, argues the book, the heartbreaking number of modern non-ape women who have tragically low or nonexistent sex drives but who still feel absolutely compelled to pop out a nice brood of offspring. The female orgasm, clearly, ain't for procreation. It has no effect on the transport of sperm. It doesn't drive maternal desire. So, if the urge to orgasm has no connection with the urge to procreate, why do women get them at all?
This is the great thing about science. It gets all flabbergasted and confounded and scrunchy when confronted with things it doesn't quite understand and that it can't quite figure out and that don't fit into neat categories, especially if said things are astounding explosive events that make women moan and writhe and gasp and grin and feel their deep inborn prelapsarian connection to just about all of eternity, in the space of about 17 seconds.
There is no room in this mode of science for, you know, mystery. There is no room for the deeply funky or the hotly mystical, the moist divine wild card. This is because stiff little science tends to cram all possibility for a given explanation into the great maw of cold beautiful logic and spits out, sadly and tellingly and almost without fail, the cosmic hunks of mystical possibility as if they were indigestible bones.
That scientific view is, of course, one way to look at it. There is, naturally, another.
Let us open up a little, go deep and explore and probe further and say, ahh yes. Because it can also be very easily argued that the female orgasm is, quite simply, the Great Mystical Link, the hot divine thing that connects and communicates and interrelates between heaven and Earth, mind and body, soul and sky, dream state and anal bead, Astroglide and God.
Maybe, in other words, the female orgasm doesn't need a purely biological purpose. Maybe it's about something more. Maybe it has -- dare we say it? -- a spiritual purpose. Vibrational. Transcendental. Gasp! Hide the children.
Well, why not? Have you seen a wild female orgasm lately? Have you borne witness? Because you really, really should. One good look and the fact comes clear: The thing is at once directly hardwired to the deep chthonic Earth while at the same time has the bright shimmering cosmos on speed dial. It's true. It's obvious. Any good and deeply felt female climax is clearly a subatomic vibrational pulse of such unusual and kaleidoscopic frequency that the only ones who can truly hear its messages are purple orchids and bright red snakes and the aliens who built the Great Pyramids. All hail.
So then. If you want to argue that anything has been lost to the mists of time and awareness, let's argue that. Let's lament the demise of that link, the great orgasmic disconnect, the massive cultural spin downward toward sexual terror and orgasmic stagnation and Laura Bush.
In other words, let's argue that the female orgasm, far from becoming obsolete and useless, is more necessary and vital than ever before, because it is the orgasm that allows us a glimpse of what lies beyond, of what we can become, of all that there is and all we want to be and all we want to become and it's all wrapped up in a white-hot moment of transcendental moaning hope. Plus, as I understand it, they're just tremendous amounts of fun.
So now, if Lloyd's book is to be believed, the fact that women are losing the orgasmic impulse, the fact that the female water slide is not worshipped and studied and taught like a joyful religion or glorious deity in this dazed and confused and Bush-ravaged culture, and the sad fact that every girl is not given a new Hitachi Magic Wand as a beautiful rite of passage when she hits 14, these are more than merely the great tragedies of our age. They might very well be the things keeping us from progressing at all.
Which is to say, deny the power of the mystico-erotic spiritual gasp at your peril. Look to science to explain away all our slick needful quiverings as mere rote mechanical factions, and watch the spirit wither and cringe and say uh, hello, over here, please, what the hell is wrong with you people?
The female orgasm is just useless fun? Just a vestigial remnant of our licentious monkey ancestors, increasingly obsolete and something that will soon be completely replaced with lots of yawning and sighing and a slow steady gaze at the ceiling as she ponders paint colors for the kitchen while the man sweats and grunts and enjoys 2.3 minutes of primitive emasculated gorilla lust? Hardly. Leave that for the Republicans and the Christian Right.
Woman's orgasm has no evolutionary purpose? Bull. Woman's orgasm is proof of evolution, baby. Spiritual, karmic, celestial evolution. It is what propels us forward, brings us light and awareness and deep laughing cosmic moan and makes much of life worth living. And if we lose our grip on that notion and insist on devolving at our current rate, we will be in deep trouble indeed.
Magic Wands all around, Dr. Lloyd. It's the right thing to do.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Saturday, May 21, 2005
t r u t h o u t - Anti-American Protests Spread through Islamic World
t r u t h o u t - Anti-American Protests Spread through Islamic World
Just in the last day or 2 I have read about anti-americanism in Germany, Russia and Afghanistan. While it certainly isn't surprising, in all my travels I have never actually encountered any. Well... that's not really true. Years ago people used to say to us, "you don't act like Americans." But then, I do introduce myself as a political refugee. Sorry, I don't really have a point.
Just in the last day or 2 I have read about anti-americanism in Germany, Russia and Afghanistan. While it certainly isn't surprising, in all my travels I have never actually encountered any. Well... that's not really true. Years ago people used to say to us, "you don't act like Americans." But then, I do introduce myself as a political refugee. Sorry, I don't really have a point.
AlterNet: Waging War on War
AlterNet: Waging War on War
This reminds of something my mother told me many years ago that I have really tried to take to heart: "It's easy to make people feel shitty about themselves. Most people do anyway. But if you can make other people feel good, now that's a real challenge." Micro-macro; big-small; think globally, act locally. Walk, eat, breath, sleep... in peace.
This reminds of something my mother told me many years ago that I have really tried to take to heart: "It's easy to make people feel shitty about themselves. Most people do anyway. But if you can make other people feel good, now that's a real challenge." Micro-macro; big-small; think globally, act locally. Walk, eat, breath, sleep... in peace.
Bill Moyers on Patriotism
Take Public Broadcasting Back
Take Public Broadcasting Back
by Bill Moyers
Closing address
National Conference on Media Reform
St. Louis, Missouri
May 15, 2005
“I wore my flag tonight. First time. Until now I haven't thought it
necessary to display a little metallic icon of patriotism for everyone to
see. It was enough to vote, pay my taxes, perform my civic duties, speak my
mind, and do my best to raise our kids to be good Americans. Sometimes I
would offer a small prayer of gratitude that I had been born in a country
whose institutions sustained me, whose armed forces protected me, and whose
ideals inspired me; I offered my heart's affections in return. It no more
occurred to me to flaunt the flag on my chest than it did to pin my mother's
picture on my lapel to prove her son's love. Mother knew where I stood; so
does my country. I even tuck a valentine in my tax returns on April 15. So
what's this doing here? Well, I put it on to take it back. The flag's been
hijacked and turned into a logo — the trademark of a monopoly on patriotism.
On those Sunday morning talk shows, official chests appear adorned with the
flag as if it is the good housekeeping seal of approval. During the State of
the Union, did you notice Bush and Cheney wearing the flag? How come? No
administration's patriotism is ever in doubt, only its policies. And the
flag bestows no immunity from error. When I see flags sprouting on official
lapels, I think of the time in China when I saw Mao's little red book on
every official's desk, omnipresent and unread.
But more galling than anything are all those moralistic ideologues in
Washington sporting the flag in their lapels while writing books and running
Web sites and publishing magazines attacking dissenters as un-American. They
are people whose ardor for war grows disproportionately to their distance
from the fighting. They're in the same league as those swarms of corporate
lobbyists wearing flags and prowling Capitol Hill for tax breaks even as
they call for more spending on war. So I put this on as a modest riposte to
men with flags in their lapels who shoot missiles from the safety of
Washington think tanks, or argue that sacrifice is good as long as they
don't have to make it, or approve of bribing governments to join the
coalition of the willing (after they first stash the cash.) I put it on to
remind myself that not every patriot thinks we should do to the people of
Baghdad what Bin Laden did to us. The flag belongs to the country, not to
the government. And it reminds me that it's not un-American to think that
war — except in self-defense — is a failure of moral imagination, political
nerve, and diplomacy. Come to think of it, standing up to your government
can mean standing up for your country.”
Take Public Broadcasting Back
by Bill Moyers
Closing address
National Conference on Media Reform
St. Louis, Missouri
May 15, 2005
“I wore my flag tonight. First time. Until now I haven't thought it
necessary to display a little metallic icon of patriotism for everyone to
see. It was enough to vote, pay my taxes, perform my civic duties, speak my
mind, and do my best to raise our kids to be good Americans. Sometimes I
would offer a small prayer of gratitude that I had been born in a country
whose institutions sustained me, whose armed forces protected me, and whose
ideals inspired me; I offered my heart's affections in return. It no more
occurred to me to flaunt the flag on my chest than it did to pin my mother's
picture on my lapel to prove her son's love. Mother knew where I stood; so
does my country. I even tuck a valentine in my tax returns on April 15. So
what's this doing here? Well, I put it on to take it back. The flag's been
hijacked and turned into a logo — the trademark of a monopoly on patriotism.
On those Sunday morning talk shows, official chests appear adorned with the
flag as if it is the good housekeeping seal of approval. During the State of
the Union, did you notice Bush and Cheney wearing the flag? How come? No
administration's patriotism is ever in doubt, only its policies. And the
flag bestows no immunity from error. When I see flags sprouting on official
lapels, I think of the time in China when I saw Mao's little red book on
every official's desk, omnipresent and unread.
But more galling than anything are all those moralistic ideologues in
Washington sporting the flag in their lapels while writing books and running
Web sites and publishing magazines attacking dissenters as un-American. They
are people whose ardor for war grows disproportionately to their distance
from the fighting. They're in the same league as those swarms of corporate
lobbyists wearing flags and prowling Capitol Hill for tax breaks even as
they call for more spending on war. So I put this on as a modest riposte to
men with flags in their lapels who shoot missiles from the safety of
Washington think tanks, or argue that sacrifice is good as long as they
don't have to make it, or approve of bribing governments to join the
coalition of the willing (after they first stash the cash.) I put it on to
remind myself that not every patriot thinks we should do to the people of
Baghdad what Bin Laden did to us. The flag belongs to the country, not to
the government. And it reminds me that it's not un-American to think that
war — except in self-defense — is a failure of moral imagination, political
nerve, and diplomacy. Come to think of it, standing up to your government
can mean standing up for your country.”
Bee Decline May Spell End of Some Fruits, Vegetables
Bee Decline May Spell End of Some Fruits, Vegetables
Bee Decline May Spell End of Some Fruits,
Vegetables
John Roach
for National Geographic News
October 5, 2004
Bees, via pollination, are responsible for 15 to
30 percent of the food
U.S. consumers eat. But in the last 50 years the
domesticated honeybee
population—which most farmers depend on for
pollination—has declined by
about 50 percent, scientists say.
Unless actions are taken to slow the decline of
domesticated honeybees
and augment their populations with wild bees,
many fruits and
vegetables may disappear from the food supply,
said Claire Kremen, a
conservation biologist at Princeton University in
New Jersey.
Bee Decline May Spell End of Some Fruits,
Vegetables
John Roach
for National Geographic News
October 5, 2004
Bees, via pollination, are responsible for 15 to
30 percent of the food
U.S. consumers eat. But in the last 50 years the
domesticated honeybee
population—which most farmers depend on for
pollination—has declined by
about 50 percent, scientists say.
Unless actions are taken to slow the decline of
domesticated honeybees
and augment their populations with wild bees,
many fruits and
vegetables may disappear from the food supply,
said Claire Kremen, a
conservation biologist at Princeton University in
New Jersey.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Critical Mass in Kyiv
Suzahna may not know it, but she is one of my most interesting contributors:
> www.velo.kyiv.in.ua
>
> ***********
> Hey guys--
>
> Check out this announcement for the next mass in kyiv. Xerocracy in
> action:
> you can download your own flyer, even if you can¹t read it. They
> are aiming
> for 1,000 riders for the may ride.
>
> Nice.
>
> Suzahna
> www.velo.kyiv.in.ua
>
> ***********
> Hey guys--
>
> Check out this announcement for the next mass in kyiv. Xerocracy in
> action:
> you can download your own flyer, even if you can¹t read it. They
> are aiming
> for 1,000 riders for the may ride.
>
> Nice.
>
> Suzahna
RUSSIAN LAKE DISAPPEARS, BAFFLING VILLAGERS
MOSCOW (Reuters) A Russian village was left baffled Thursday after its
lake disappeared overnight. NTV television showed pictures of a giant
muddy hole bathed in summer sun, while fishermen from the village of
Bolotnikovo looked on disconsolately. 'It is very dangerous. If a
person had been in this disaster, he would have had almost no chance of
survival. The trees flew downwards, under the ground,' said Dmitry
Zaitsev, a local Emergencies Ministry official interviewed by the
channel. Officials in Nizhegorodskaya region, on the Volga river east
of Moscow, said water in the lake might have been sucked down into an
underground water-course or cave system, but some villagers had more
sinister explanations. 'I am thinking, well, America has finally got to
us,' said one old woman, as she sat on the ground outside her house...
Source: http://tinyurl.com/744z7
lake disappeared overnight. NTV television showed pictures of a giant
muddy hole bathed in summer sun, while fishermen from the village of
Bolotnikovo looked on disconsolately. 'It is very dangerous. If a
person had been in this disaster, he would have had almost no chance of
survival. The trees flew downwards, under the ground,' said Dmitry
Zaitsev, a local Emergencies Ministry official interviewed by the
channel. Officials in Nizhegorodskaya region, on the Volga river east
of Moscow, said water in the lake might have been sucked down into an
underground water-course or cave system, but some villagers had more
sinister explanations. 'I am thinking, well, America has finally got to
us,' said one old woman, as she sat on the ground outside her house...
Source: http://tinyurl.com/744z7
Monday, May 16, 2005
Incensed
You've heard me discuss in past blog entries about the outrageous shift of the Regional Rideshare Program from a local non-profit organization to a huge, multinational private engineering firm (PB) after 27 years. PB has been interviewing RIDES (the NPO) staff for employment in the new office, and I just heard some interesting news. Not only is the program costing about the same amount of your tax payer dollars to employ fewer people, but... One existing staff member said she turned down their offer because it was ridiculously low. She said she could not live on the amount of money they offered her. This is like the Wal-Mart of public projects. Talk about corporate welfare.
I think I need to sit in the corner and do my breathing for a while before my head blow off.
I think I need to sit in the corner and do my breathing for a while before my head blow off.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Friday, May 13, 2005
Alice Sux
So, I don't listen to Alice (a mainstream, large radio station described as contemporary rock or hot adult contemporary on the internet) usually. I mean I have before when I was painting my apartment and had already killed enough brain cells (before they'd had time to regenerate) with paint fumes and couldn't make any more decisions among my CDs and the other mainstream rock stations were either not as close on the dial or annoying me more. But, I certainly won't admit it.
Our friend Damon, who is marrying my grad school classmate Rachel, is a film maker. He just moved to SF from Ireland, where there is a film industry, to be with Rachel. So, he's peddling his wears and trying to build his career here, where we have no film industry. As part of that process, he enters his films into local contests and one of these was last night's Alice’s 3-minute film festival at Bimbo’s (I love Bimbo’s).
The films were good and certainly entertaining but most of them rather amateur. Damon is a professional film maker, and his entry, Aroma, in the comedy category, was gorgeous. You also can't really argue with the premise: farting grandmas. But alas, this was an Alice event, where cute dogs knocking over trash cans (and it WAS a very cute dog) made into non-beautiful films win over gorgeous farting grandmas. As Marshall said, "this is so un-San Francisco." I know we were all embarrassed for our city.
Damon agreed. In fact, he lost to that same dog flick in San Diego. Of course, you know that Southern California (Spanish architecture, plastic surgery, suntans), and all of its aesthetics, are infinitely inferior (lower class) to Northern California (redwood trees, rainbows, dope smokers). Unless, of course, you're coming from the perspective of mainstream rock radio stations. We do still house the Marina after all (a mainstream-type of neighborhood where the women are all blond and perfect and the men all drive nice cars and everyone works out all the time and the craziest thing anyone ever did was get drunk and dance on a bar in the Mission, the gentrified-artsy-Latino neighborhood where I live).
So, I don't know. I am done being snooty for today. I think Damon should be more selective about where he submits his films. That said, he probably got some excellent exposure at least among the judges. (Plus, we got them! We stole the flowers off the table when we left.) And only one film can win.
What is quality anyway? The half time band totally sucked (we all agreed) in a sort of lacking originality kind of way. They sang about how women shouldn't wait around for Mr. Right, which I was personally offended by. They were tight, but sort of Hooty-and-the-Blow-Fish kind of boring (I don't know Hooty -- someone else said that). But someone liked them enough to select them. What I am trying to say is, we don't all have to agree, but we should at least all try to get along (e.g., Rodney King).
Our friend Damon, who is marrying my grad school classmate Rachel, is a film maker. He just moved to SF from Ireland, where there is a film industry, to be with Rachel. So, he's peddling his wears and trying to build his career here, where we have no film industry. As part of that process, he enters his films into local contests and one of these was last night's Alice’s 3-minute film festival at Bimbo’s (I love Bimbo’s).
The films were good and certainly entertaining but most of them rather amateur. Damon is a professional film maker, and his entry, Aroma, in the comedy category, was gorgeous. You also can't really argue with the premise: farting grandmas. But alas, this was an Alice event, where cute dogs knocking over trash cans (and it WAS a very cute dog) made into non-beautiful films win over gorgeous farting grandmas. As Marshall said, "this is so un-San Francisco." I know we were all embarrassed for our city.
Damon agreed. In fact, he lost to that same dog flick in San Diego. Of course, you know that Southern California (Spanish architecture, plastic surgery, suntans), and all of its aesthetics, are infinitely inferior (lower class) to Northern California (redwood trees, rainbows, dope smokers). Unless, of course, you're coming from the perspective of mainstream rock radio stations. We do still house the Marina after all (a mainstream-type of neighborhood where the women are all blond and perfect and the men all drive nice cars and everyone works out all the time and the craziest thing anyone ever did was get drunk and dance on a bar in the Mission, the gentrified-artsy-Latino neighborhood where I live).
So, I don't know. I am done being snooty for today. I think Damon should be more selective about where he submits his films. That said, he probably got some excellent exposure at least among the judges. (Plus, we got them! We stole the flowers off the table when we left.) And only one film can win.
What is quality anyway? The half time band totally sucked (we all agreed) in a sort of lacking originality kind of way. They sang about how women shouldn't wait around for Mr. Right, which I was personally offended by. They were tight, but sort of Hooty-and-the-Blow-Fish kind of boring (I don't know Hooty -- someone else said that). But someone liked them enough to select them. What I am trying to say is, we don't all have to agree, but we should at least all try to get along (e.g., Rodney King).
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Many-to-Many: Redefining friendship
Many-to-Many: Redefining friendship
I plan to continue the friend string, partly because I like it, and partly bc I received overwhelming positive feedback (yes, like 3 people said something nice about -- all 3 people who read my blog). The will be a good time to discuss this topic further, but for now, off the top, I have some initial reactions:
* I am comforted by the fact that David, and his commenter, all define friendship how I did: quality one-on-one time, and the effort to spend it.
* The big bear hug is problematic for me. As a Californian, I am prone to the big bear hug when seeing friends esp if I haven't seen them in a while. However, I have a bony chest without much padding to protect me there. Invariably, someone (often myself) has something in that general area that stabs my chest. Can we all agree to transition to a less intense hug and a kiss on one cheek? (My chest is still sore from when Forest was in town earlier this week and I stabbed myself with my own hoody.)
* My friends never take off their shoes and stink up the room with their feet. My friends are perfect (and astoundingly beautiful) and never have stinky feet.
* Friendster: I still don't get it. Of course I have friends who I keep in touch with mostly thru Friendster, but that's just cuz we aren't organized enough to keep track of each other’s emails. On the other hand, why do people I don't know keep asking me to be their Friendster? I might correspond with you if you say something interesting, but I am certainly not going to commit to a friendship with someone I know only thru their profile. That would be disrespectful to my real friends and entirely miss the point (as I see it). Same goes for Tribe.
* This issue about prefering to be with your family watching TV scares me a little. I mean, I am glad this David character likes his family, but doesn't he also want friends? What happens if his wife dies or leaves him (goddess forbid)? Is it wrong to spread yourself around a little just to avoid pain? Hmmm. Ok, maybe that's not the issue. Maybe I am happier when I have a variety of inputs, and when I am happier and more interesting, I have more to offer the people I am closest to.
I plan to continue the friend string, partly because I like it, and partly bc I received overwhelming positive feedback (yes, like 3 people said something nice about -- all 3 people who read my blog). The will be a good time to discuss this topic further, but for now, off the top, I have some initial reactions:
* I am comforted by the fact that David, and his commenter, all define friendship how I did: quality one-on-one time, and the effort to spend it.
* The big bear hug is problematic for me. As a Californian, I am prone to the big bear hug when seeing friends esp if I haven't seen them in a while. However, I have a bony chest without much padding to protect me there. Invariably, someone (often myself) has something in that general area that stabs my chest. Can we all agree to transition to a less intense hug and a kiss on one cheek? (My chest is still sore from when Forest was in town earlier this week and I stabbed myself with my own hoody.)
* My friends never take off their shoes and stink up the room with their feet. My friends are perfect (and astoundingly beautiful) and never have stinky feet.
* Friendster: I still don't get it. Of course I have friends who I keep in touch with mostly thru Friendster, but that's just cuz we aren't organized enough to keep track of each other’s emails. On the other hand, why do people I don't know keep asking me to be their Friendster? I might correspond with you if you say something interesting, but I am certainly not going to commit to a friendship with someone I know only thru their profile. That would be disrespectful to my real friends and entirely miss the point (as I see it). Same goes for Tribe.
* This issue about prefering to be with your family watching TV scares me a little. I mean, I am glad this David character likes his family, but doesn't he also want friends? What happens if his wife dies or leaves him (goddess forbid)? Is it wrong to spread yourself around a little just to avoid pain? Hmmm. Ok, maybe that's not the issue. Maybe I am happier when I have a variety of inputs, and when I am happier and more interesting, I have more to offer the people I am closest to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
