Moiety?

The acid forest reclines with quiet reserve
Contemplate fate within the window of another's soul
Mourning silence of whimsical fate
Sweet harmony of discord and malcontent
Malfeasance lingers through the stillness
Ripcord shorn in eager hands of clammy perception

Spin it

Rockin' the boat is all fun and games 'til you fall out of the boat. It's a fine line between tipping to the waters edge and tipping so far that water gushes in and you are cast into the cold waters surrounding your previously perfectly safe craft. A few years ago (OK, honestly, more than a decade ago) I worked for a spineless man. I literally wondered sometimes how he didn't just ooze down his form and become a pool of sludge in front of any confrontation. He would say yes to anyone in any position of authority over him. His goal was to keep his job.

Pretty simple. Most people think you can keep a job by just doing the best work you can. J didn't think that way. He was the king of succubus, not literally, I just like the way it sounds. He wasn't ever demon like. Anyway, J's theory seemed to be that if he followed every directive to the letter and never questioned anything that he would maintain his position and thus his too large paycheck.

I'm not a game player by nature. I never felt like playing politics. When I left the organization after two years J had one real comment for me. It came as a surprise and it still rolls around my noggin' once in awhile. Probably more often than I'd like. Munkey, I've never met anyone that plays the game so close to the line. You practically danced on it the whole time you were here. I think he'd just never seen anyone get away with telling the truth before. I never intentionally manipulated the people in the organization, but I found out that many people thought I had. I simply put my spin on the information at hand and tried to make it relevant.

Words on paper

Once upon a time, I was obsessed with Post Secret. In the beginning, the secrets were so visceral, so cutting. The raw emotion ripped off the screen and into me. I never sent a secret to this thing, but I loved to go read them. Now, it's an, 'oh, I haven't been there in awhile' kinda thought that gets me to visit. I read through the secrets and I'm rarely surprised anymore.

Am I just jaded? Have I seen too much? There is an interesting one on there today that someone asked out their Jewish friend. When they declined, the person went home and watched Hitler vids on You Tube and it made them feel better. I'll file this more in the odd section than a true hidden secret that is ripping someone's life asunder. What a wretched person you must be to hate someone for their genetics and beliefs. And to enjoy watching someone who tried to destroy that race when he was of the same race himself.

Perhaps what interests me most is the designs on the cards themselves. For non-designers, there are some amazingly rich visual communications. They aren't designed well all the time, but like, art, isn't good design that which speaks to you? People put a lot of thought into creating these little messages to the masses. See, it would be one thing to send a postcard to a guy in MD that is just going to file them away, but with luck, your card is going to be on line or posted in another secret book. Your card may go on tour for thousands of people to look at. To examine to vilify, accept or deny your emotion.

If you've sent in a Postcard to Post Secret, I commend you for at least taking that action. You've shared with someone and I bet you feel lighter as a result. If I saw it, I wonder if I'd react. Did you make me feel? Did I pause to consider your words and the meaning behind them? Or did you send the card that says you resent buying gifts for your rich parents? I don't ever recall reading a law that says you must buy a gift for anyone. Or is it perhaps you fear they will no longer buy you the gifts you crave?

I'm not good at buying gifts on the right occasion, but I love to give gifts when they aren't expected. A small thing here or there, a true thing freely given. There isn't much better than that in my mind. Are our best friendships/relationships those we expect nothing from but to be with someone whose company you enjoy? Someone that makes you smile or laugh at yourself? Makes you forget all the problems in your life and focus on just being. I'd like to thank those people in my life that do that. You are very special.

Just do it

My mental to do list is so damn big I might actually have to write it down. I knocked off a big one yesterday by taking my car to the shop. It's funny. I condemn people (mentally) when they bitch about how much car maintenance costs. Then I couldn't keep my trap shut about the cost on this particular mechanical venture. I whined about it to two people. I'm done now, I swear.

Back to my list. I have lived in my condo for about 18 months. I still have boxes I haven't unpacked (or worse clothes that are still neatly folded from 3 moves ago). I was raised a pack-rat. I can't help it. I really might need this shit (not). At a Thanksgiving day dinner I attended a group of people got onto a discussion that if they haven't touched something in 6 months it goes to someone that can use it. Two things in this strike me as odd. I'd like to emulate this idea. But it's odd that people would get rid of things (having been taught never to discard). Secondly, that they would GIVE it to someone else.

I'm not a prick, it's not that I don't want to help people, but if you can't sell something to get rid of it, it's always been my way to throw it in the trash. Yes, I've donated clothes in the past (what a nice little tax deduction that is.) But it's not integral to my system. I'd like it to be, but it's not. I grew up getting hand me down clothes and shopping at Good Will. My favorite portrait of me is in a tattered MN Vikings jersey I got as a hand me down in Jr. High from someone at my mothers church. I wore that jersey to school once. The kid it had previously belonged to knew it was his and said something about it. That shirt never went to school again. I always felt dirty wearing it after that.

I guess the bottom line is do I turn the still serviceable clothing into Good Will (they do that great drive up to the semi thing after Christmas). Get your Tax Deduction here. The amount of boxes people bring to that is simply staggering. I won't even get into the rest of my to do list. You are probably thinking Turkey isn't as good a way to fall asleep as this post. Well, off to the couch with your butt. Have 15 minutes on me.

Stuff it like you mean it

I had an odd thought this morning: I wonder if anyone has ever made stuffing out of cheerios.

Yeah, it does sound gross, but I was betting the ranch that someone had not only tried it, but had posted the recipe on the web so others could savor the flavor. I'm happy to report that I was wrong. Oh, I'm still sure someone has tried it, but alas, I could not find the recipe on the web to share.

I might have to write a letter to General Mills (they are a General Mills company right?) and complain that I couldn't find a recipe for stuffing based on their delicious cereal.

Just one short year after Tupperware, in 1941, Cheerioats (ancient spelling) debuts as the first ready-to-eat oat cereal. Even then, the package was yellow. It's nice to see a brand follow through with their history in modern package design. In 1945 the name was officially changed to Cheerios.

In 1949, Cheerios sponsors the TV series, The Lone Ranger. It's unclear what benefit was derived from supporting a man in a mask that sent his indian ally Tonto to town for an ass kicking every week, but they even included a white horse in the box as a toy. In the 50's, Cheerios was there when Ed Sullivan launched Elvis on his career. Alaska became the 49th state and Hawaii the 50th. In 1964, cartoon star Bullwinkle appears in Cheerios ads. Cheerios introduces the slogan, "Go with the Goodness of Cheerios". I'm sure this is a testament to the wonderful high fiber content in Cheerios without coming out and saying, "You'll crap like gangbusters".

In the 70's, Cheerios was there for The Godfather Part II and it's Best Picture Oscar. They may have even fueled Sylvester Stallone as he wrote Rocky in 1976. In 1979 to the delight of all, General Mills expands the Cheerios line up with Perennial favorite Honey Nut Cheerios. In 1985 Coke introduces it's New Formula. Terror and mayhem result in the hoarding of Original Coke in it's true form. Cheerios markets it's cereal with Snoopy on the box as Joe Cool. It's not clear at this time how Joe Cool morphed into a camel and became the worlds leading cigarette advertiser. In 1988, not satisfied with their share of the growing cereal market, GM introduces Apple Cinnamon Cheerios in a bright green box. At the same time, a purple character named Barney dances into childrens hearts and parents pocketbooks.

In 1992 Johnny Carson retires from the Tonight Show. GM introduces Multi-Grain Cheerios to help him poo with better regularity. In 1995, not satisfied with having 4 Cheerios brands, they introduce Frosted Cheerios. The Chairman gloats, "Let those Basterts at Kellogs hump Tony the Tiger." The remainder of the board unhappy with this development, but petrified to take action merely nod in agreement. In 1996, GM introduces Team USA Cheerios. Whoop de doo. A year later with the brand suffering an identity crisis, Team USA Cheerios is renamed Team Cheerios.

In 2000, Cheerios celebrates the new millennium with Millenios. Parents everywhere cry out in frustration of this obvious language subversion. In 2003, GM introduces Berry Burst Cheerios.

I'd continue, but there are no entries for Cheerios after the introduction of Berry Burst. Obviously, they overburdened a fragile marketplace and went Bust. This reporter could only find original Cheerios and Honey Nut Cheerios at his local grocery store. He has still be unable to unearth a recipe for stuffing based on this fantasticly healthy product.

The porcelain goddess is stoned

As time passes in our lives, many of us collect portions of medicines we do not finish as directed. From Antibiotics to painkillers, happy meds, non-itchy meds, meds to make us virile, meds to make us go, meds to stop us up, meds to lower our cholesteral, meds to keep you from peeing (cue Judas Priest). You get the idea.

Since there isn't a turn-in program where you can recycle your unused drugs, the only alternative to keeping them around for years and years is to dump them in the toilet. I realize you as a good citizen aren't 'holding', but if you are, it's time to get the porcelain goddess high. Everyone gets high, everyone gets low. - Sixx AM lyric. Look, I'm not kidding. Start opening those neat child safety proof lids (so much easier to open when i was a kid) and plop them in the toilet.

As you go, watch how your stomach might have ingested these meds. What is their dissolve rate? Do they combine in pretty colors? Do they clump or cloud the bowl? I'm not getting close enough to smell mine (that only happens when I'm giving devout offering to the porcelain goddess), but feel free to take a sniff test if you are so moved.

Task complete? There. Now don't you feel better knowing that your medicine cabinet is clean for the next party you have? All your guests won't suspect half the ailments you had because there is no longer any proof in your house. Of course the guy snooping through your trash is gonna think you are one sick bastert. He may even take out an insurance policy on you. The jokes on him though. 'Cuz you are no longer 'holding'.

Need one? Take one. Have one? Leave one.

Take a minute and go sit in a chair you don't normally sit in. Then look around at your stuff. Look at each individual thing. What does that thing say about you? What importance does it have in your world? Could you live without it? Move to the next item. Take your time, I really didn't mean a minute. I meant more like 30 or as many as it takes. (BTW - if it takes hours, then you need to throw some stuff away.)

As you consider your things and the life you lead, does it make you happy? Sad? Motivated? When you have everything someone else dreams of, does it make it any better that it's yours? I know that sounds odd, but think about it. Even if you only have a little, it's more than some have. Even people in prison have some stuff. Something that is theirs. However, there are people that have nothing. Recruits in bootcamp for example have nothing. The only thing they have is what the military provided them. They only have a name and that is sewn on their shirt.

How much of what you have do you need? You personally. Not as something to show off or you need to keep because grandma slackjaw gave it to you. Stuff you really need. Clothing that keeps you warm. Shoes that protect your feet.

Or look at it another way. Does the art on your walls inspire you to go further or is it merely decoration? Does it speak to you in a deep down place you can't get to very often or very easily? Does it wrench you wondering what passion caused each brush stroke from the artists hand. When you fall asleep, is your last thought of how you can look better or how you could be better? It's a wide chasm I know. But which would be the best option?

Have you inspired anyone lately? Do you look around and feel like everyone owes you or that you owe them? Are you sharing or reaching to take? Two paths. Both lead to riches. Which one do you crave?

Space invasion

No, not little green men from outer space (or inner space). Rather, people that can't seem to keep the fuck off my ass while standing in line. Yo, heads up jackass, if I'm standing about 3 feet from the person in front of me, it probably means I don't like to be close to people. Especially in the drugstore pharmacy line. Why? Because you fuckers are sick. That is why you are in this line. You need drugs for something. Whether it be a festering vagina or the sneezy wheezer with the need to continuously clear the throat.

I say, back off before I hand your balls to you in a jar. Seriously. Is it that hard to not stand right behind me and not breathe on me? Can't you understand we aren't living in Japan or Korea (or even Europe) where people are accustomed to being hemmed in near others because there is a lack of space. People. Seriously. This. Is. America. Back OFF.

I read an article some years ago about a study done on violent felons. People convicted of assault and murder. They were placed in a room and asked to tell when their space had been violated or when they felt someone was threatening them. The more violent the criminal, the further the ring of space around them needed to be before they felt someone was 'messing with [them]'. Interesting. In many cases, this space was more than 15 feet away. Now, I'm not suggesting that you stand 5 or more feet away from someone in line and thus breaking the continuity of the line, but surely you can give me my 3 feet? Either that, or give me the courtesy of a reach around will ya?

Here comes the rain again

When I was in college I used to walk in the rain. No umbrella, no jacket, no cares that I was getting wet. We all know everything smells fresh and clean after a rain, but there is something even more nourishing walking in the rain. Sensing the cleansing. Being a part of the power that water brings. Life. The thrumming of the rain on the streets, the cars, the buildings and even on me. A rich bounty.

Walking past people all in a fret over being soaked by the water. Seeing them stare as I passed. The lunatic just walking in the rain. Enjoying the moment for what it was. A simpler time. Less worried about appearances and more interested in the details surrounding me. Opening my mouth to catch the sparkling drops as they fell. Tiny crystal explosions in my mouth. Tiny rivers down my neck into my soaked shirt.

Now I watch the rain from inside. Dreams of different days.