As much as I pride myself on my ability to be objective, to see perspectives beyond my own...I still can be suckerpunched by the realization that I am a freak among freaks. Like everyone else, I guess, I make assumptions based on my own experiences, and I constantly have to remind myself that...everyone is not, in fact, just like me.

I'm sure there are people hwo know me who would disagree....but I see myself as both pragmatic and passionate. I think it's normal to have something in your life that is both blessing and curse - that flavors every moment of experience so richly that it's sometimes a burden. I am driven by my own passions - music, knowledge (and maybe someday wisdom), exploration and understanding. I want to experience as much as I possibly can, wrest every drop of life from the time I have in this universe. In the face of that truth, everything else takes a back seat for me. I try to balance the "worldly" side of the equation (i.e., my need to sleep under a roof on a regular basis) with the more idealized pursuits that are more important to me, but harder to manifest in the world I see around me. I mean, sure, wouldn't it be awesome if I could go gypsy my way across the country, living in an RV and singing for my supper? But I don't find that feasible...and so here I am, working my day job and beating my restlessness into a corner.

Anyway, I keep running into people who don't seem to have that passion, that ineffable something-or-other that sparks me and keeps me going, keeps me interested and engaged. I have trouble believing I could live that way, and I don't really get how other people could. It seems a pale existence.

You know what I hate? Yeah, yeah, it's a long list. But today's offender is more nuanced than just "Tom Hanks," "the GOP," or "raspberries."

It's been my experience, as part of a fairly large and ever-expanding circle of alterna-folk, that people who have stepped outside the norm in some way sometimes have lower standards when something caters to their particular special interest. For example, I have noticed that "pagan" music, by and large, blows goats. And yet pagans will buy it, listen to it, and tell each other about it. Even though it sucks! Now, don't get me wrong; there is a small body of beautiful, intelligent, well-crafted pagan music that I can appreciate. It stands on its own against good music of any genre or special interest. But it is the minority body, and I have to wonder why pagans tolerate crappy music with such apparent adoration. I can't, in good conscience, support something that isn't good - even if it's by a pagan. I believe that quality supercedes special interests....though if I can support good music by a pagan, I want to. Hell, I want to support good music by anyone, just to reduce the amount of horrible music out there.

Anyway, I recently came across several substandard (for me) creative endeavors that are rampantly popular with many alterna-people of my acquaintance....and I found them sorely lacking in quality, such that I am unwilling to lift a finger on their behalf. And the people who shared these endeavors with me clearly did so expecting me to be all gushy-gush. And dude, I just can't. If it's not good, I'm not loving it. I expect funny stuff to be funny, music to be mindblowing, and art to be both expressive and communicative. I don't think these are unrealistic expectations, and I ain't bending them for my buddies. I just can't lie like that.

So, can I just talk a little bit about bathroom reality? This might be TMA, so feel free to skip this section if you're not up for potty talk. I just want to make some suggestions to women who share public restrooms...or at least the ones who share the restrooms at my office.

1. Stop flushing every five seconds. I know you're taking a crap. I know there may be both plops and fart sounds. There may even be a smell. News flash: shit stinks, but we all do it. Stop wasting water trying to convince me you're a delicate flower who would never excrete anything so foul.

2. The air freshener spray? Yeah, not working. Plain ol' shit smells better than plastic flowers covered in shit.

3. If you're going to use a toilet condom...er, seat cover...do me a favor and turn around to check that it flushed before you walk out of the stall. It's just as gross to walk into a stall to find a used one, half in the water and stuck on the rim, as if you hadn't flushed at all.

That is all.

I've been dreaming about an ex recently...and not just the usual steamy dream that features him 'cause he's the sex I remember best...these have featured actual conversation and non-groping interaction. Sometimes I can remember what we said, sometimes I only wake up wistful and melancholy, and missing my projection of him, if not the actual man himself. Yeah, 'cause the actual dude was a poor fit.

It's really put me in mind of that most human ability to project, to create a mental picture and stick it on someone so that I can pretty much only see what I want to see, and the reality only occasionally peeks out around the edges. What really frustrates me about this is my own recognition of this fact....shortly followed by my doing it anyway. I think there must be some biological imperative in chicks not being able to see what tools men generally are - especially the kind we're physically attracted to. Although, I suppose it probably works the same way regardless of gender or sexual orientation, so maybe it goes beyond biology. Maybe it's one of those social evolutionary things...society would probably crumble if we all saw each other for the selfish jerks we all are by nature.

Clearly I am up on humanity today.

Not sure how I got off on that particular rant, but I guess my point is that I've been dreaming about an ex, and it's reminding me that I miss my experience of what we had, not so much the objective version. I also wonder if what I want in that vein is to actually have a functional relationship....or if it would just be nice to embrace the insanity that is being in love. I mean, it's total agony, sure...but there's no feeling like it to be had anywhere else. I mean, it's cliche and horrible, but it's such an all-encompassing state of being - I can remember days when my brain didn't entertain a single thought that wasn't related to the object of my affections. I can't think of many experiences in my life that have taken my attention with such intensity. Even if it led to sheer misery and heartbreak and sorrow - it was still the kind of experience that makes being human worthwhile.

It is entirely possible that I just need to get laid.

Today's playlist:

"Let's Not Fall Apart" - David & the Citizens
"Lighten Up" - Morcheeba
"Today" - Joshua Radin
"Geek in the Pink" - Jason Mraz
"Friday I'm in Love" - The Cure
"Save Tonight" - Eagle Eye Cherry
"Bold As Love" - John Mayer
"Heaven Knows" - Squeeze
"Delicate" - Damien Rice
"Manic Depression" - Party Ben
"Sinnerman" - Nina Simone
"Supposed to Be" - Jack Johnson
"Why Does it Always Rain on Me?" - Travis
"Breathe" - Dan Bern
"I Play Music" - Rosie Thomas
"Party Hard" - Andrew W.K.


Recent entries...
27 December 2007: 2007: Finis.
17 December 2007: A ruse, a rant, and a poem. It's short.
11 December 2007: Music & falling....story of my life.
08 December 2007: Briefly...ish.
29 November 2007: A poem, a rant, a lesson.