So I read an article about the symbolism of the component movements of one of iaido's forms, and then got this crazy idea in my head to experiment with that in a poem form. I'm not exactly sure I really like at all how it turned out, but here's what happened when I tried, at any rate:
------------
(the cuts she did not grace me with)

The first (no action without consequence), the blade slo
   wly d r a w n till
         thelastflash of
movement.               Warning, watching before
      decision      (hers, a sharp burning in the dark
         as she carved at my back)
and the unhealthy tickle, of blood, trickling
                                                                   unseen.

The second cut. Compassion.
      The intent to end my suffering.
            Her eyes were as a shark's, though:
blank with sullen incomprehension [apathy]
      as she watched me
                                       bleed.
Quite the conundrum, learning
to give oneself the killing blow.

Cleansing. Of blade. Of heart
      and mind, each slick with emotion and reaction;
of dirt in which I had thrust my sword(self)
      to lean on and stand again.

Sheathing. Letting the blade(soul) be
                     still.
                           The past put away.
Always yet
                  aware               of present
                              of future,

Name trivia time! So my mom's first name, Najwa, means "essence of love." Her maiden name, Ghanaim, means "treasures." But not just any treasure, interestingly, but specifically treasure gained as a result of conflict. Which, on a facetious level, could be an approximation of "booty" or "isorla" for anyone who gets the obscure sci-fi reference of the latter, and on a not-so-facetious level might be a statement of fact about some ancestor of ours, especially if we're descended from nomads as some of our relatives claim. Now, to jump over to my mom's name-by-marriage, Harris, in reading a recent National Geographic article on Celtic culture in modern times I found a mention of "the northern-most island of the Outer Hebrides" being named Harris. So, in light of that I'm curious as to whether we have an ancestor from there, and what the word 'Harris' might actually mean (I'm hoping it's not 'hedgehog' as my dad claims, based on what's supposedly on the family crest).

Also, in light of ancestor-talk, two women at the barbecue the other day realized that one of their ancestors probably killed the other girl's ancestor. That is, one gal was descended from Billy the Kid, and the other was descended from a man who had the same name as someone Billy had killed...and the last record of him was in the particular city said killing occurred. Whoa. The women got along just fine, however.

In light of barbecue talk, there was some awesome stuff food-wise. For one, the host made hummus and tabbouleh, which already being awesome in and of themselves, were further done up in gorgeous colored ceramic bowls with color-coordinated garnishes of tomatoes and cucumbers (interesting how she's also quite a talented painter). Along with that were the requisite veggies, chips, and salsa, and some obscure beers and cheap wine that was actually pretty good. For dinner there were chicken/artichoke sausages with fancy mustard, skirt steak rolled with blue cheese, even a nice big steak for Cassie the beautiful husky-mix with the multi-colored eyes, and grilled portobello mushrooms and veggies. And dessert! The host made her own birthday cake, decorated with crushed M&Ms, with a layer in the middle of frosting and the same crushed candy. Original, and tasty! (sorry if that was boring, I'm running on the assumption there are other people besides me out there who love reading about food)

I couldn't help but snort when I read this - and not just because it's by Ben Franklin

Firewall, with Harrison Ford and Paul Bettany. As much as this is really not the kind of movie I'd usually see, I tried to appreciate it as best I could. I thought Ford and Bettany did nice jobs in their respective roles, and enjoyed that aspect of the movie. The plot, on the other hand...not so much, and the general style didn't really do much for me either. It wasn't bad, just not very interesting.
That said, we were pretty much laughing all through the ending of the movie. It just got...over the top. And I know I'm a bit hyper-critical of fight-scenes, but - though I enjoyed this one to some degree - yeesh, a little bit overboard for what the movie's about, there. And, though I doubt anyone'll notice this, there was a random aiki wrist-lock, that isn't even pulled off (a 9 of the 15 for those few who'll recognize it)

And kart racing! Was interesting. I enjoyed it, despite my initial nervousness. I didn't do very well, but I was also doing a lot of driving technique ass-backward (sometimes almost literally when spinning out) in retrospect. These are definitely not little mini-golf-place karts, and will actually drift and spin out and other assorted fun effects of a lack of traction. I think I came out of the experience having a quite different understanding of driving in general, and I'm sure I would even more with each successive experience. There's driving on the road, and then there's race-driving (even in little karts), and they are very, very different things. The most fun part for me this go-round was the moment after the first caution-flagged lap, where they wave the green flags, and you just slam the gas pedal down and gun it.

Random and disparate things. I noticed in a manufacturing magazine lying around here that there's apparently a shortage of engineers and other trained personnel in the US; I just thought it was interesting to note that where at the beginning of the industrial revolution, workers were kept uneducated intentionally and as a matter of course, but now in contrast there's a desperate need and call for more education. I'd be curious to see how much of that is societal change and how much is based upon more complex tasks and manufactured goods needing to be produced.

Went to a barbecue this weekend at an apartment complex that dates back to the 1950's; it's interesting, because right after going up the incredibly steep drive to get to where it's hidden in a shallow on top of a hill, it's like you're not in Tucson anymore at all. Well, in one sense there's still a desert feel in the architecture and dirt/log parking lots, but everything - including the overgrown hedges and other vegetation - obviously dates back several decades. For the first time, I found something 'retro' actually appealing, I think because it wasn't something in imitation or simply appealing to older styles, but actually, really was from that era, down to the funny little old-school hot tub. Unfortunately, the only way I have of accurately describing it is to compare it to similar in the movie Mulholland Drive, but it seems the only people who've seen that movie were at the barbecue itself; ah well.

Dieu est grand, je suis toute petite, with Audrey Tautou and Edouard Baer. I want to say I enjoyed this movie, but I almost feel like I need to watch it again so I could catch everything in it. I agree with a review I read on IMDB, that if you haven't had spiritual-search kind of thoughts, it'll be very hard to identify with the story, but luckily I'm on the have-had-thoughts side of the spectrum, so I ended up being charmed by the quirky style of the whole thing in the end, I think. I think this is one of those films like Easy or Secretary that is a bit out of the way for most people to like, but you'll really like it if you do. Interestingly, I think all three of those movies have similar entwined themes of finding self and romance, but Secretary ironically probably has the most palatable ending for most people.

War of the Twins, by Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. Firstly, thanks again to Bryce in receiving! Awesome. I'm going to have to say again, though, this trilogy's got nothing on the original Dragonlance trilogy. This second novel is another example of what wants to be epic, compressed; it was better than the first, at least, though I remain as hesitant about enjoying time travel as I do for any Star Trek episode with the same. Nonetheless, I'll give them that this was a tasteful effort in this regard. And there was way less of the bloody kender. The nicest thing about returning to these Dragonlance novels is that it's nice to be able to parse through characters and storylines with someone; I mean, everybody watches movies, and can discuss them, but not everyone reads so much.

copied out of a novel:
"I've led a very sheltered life."
"I guess."
"So have you. You just don't realize it."
"In what way?"
"Fear," Dorit tells him. "Prejudice. Those can be just as confining as any physical barrier."

Krsch...hm, I'm probably not spelling that right, anyway plum brandy of some kind that might be spelled like that is strong like whoa. But tasty.

In other news, one of the suppliers I buy from for work was bought out by a much larger company, because they were getting too successful, basically. This is all well and good, but for that the larger company in question is a competitor of the place I work for - so it's a pretty solid chance they won't sell to us anymore. But as the catalogs have already been published, with those suddenly unavailable parts taking up a notable chunk, I have to scramble to buy at least a year's supply. When I finally finished my research and figured out how much it would cost to do that, it came out to...well, basically enough to flat out buy a solid house hands-down. I know that maybe it's a drop in the bucket to the company owners, but damn...well, at least I can say I've been responsible for buying stuff in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, I suppose. And stare at it wistfully as I do it.

I already like olives, but I think this is pretty cool, however ephemeral an effort it may seem

I've got one comment on today. It's not a complaint on effort required, mind, as for all the effort I've put in so far and have yet to, I'm having a great time and pleasure doing it. It's more that the effort isn't equal; where's feminism now, huh? I mean, there is the steak+bj day idea, sometime in March, but really how many gals are going to go out of their way to put effort into that? I'd rather just see some effort back on Valentine's Day itself, even if it required guys surrendering their masculinity a little. Hell, I'll take some flowers and chocolates, I generally enjoy both of those things, yet never get them as gifts. Equality, people!

Ohh, this just makes me laugh - because if anything is truly sublime, it is the feminine bottom, naturally.

-copied out of a novel in honor of the holiday:
How loud your heart is calling, love,
How close the darkness at your breast,
How hectic are the rivers, love,
Drawn through your dying wrist.

And love, what heat your frail skin hides,
As pure as salt, as sweet as death,
And in the dark the red moon rides
The foxfire of your breath."

I was thinking that it's interesting how people react when they see a photo of someone doing an advanced arm balance or pretzel-like yoga pose; that is, there often seems to be a mixture of admiration and yet shying away with thoughts like, the model has to be born that flexible, or it's an accomplishment that the speaker could never hope to match, or that it must be painful to do that. So then that got me thinking, what does that model in that challenging pose represent in terms of yoga, and whatever else?

For one, though it certainly is an accomplishment in a general sense, it's not important at all in yoga to be able to do a more advanced pose, but rather more (trying not to ramble here) relaxing into what you are capable of in the moment, rather than pushing for more. While sometimes the model is just plain a contortionist, I think another misperception is that it's purely flexibility in question; it's just as much great muscular and mental strength to be able to manipulate one's body as such. And while it may certainly appear painful, I think rather that a truly deepened pose is really more representative of freedom and a deeper relaxation of the body-mind, as one doesn't force their way into something like that. I'm sure there was some kind of pain that went into getting to that point, but to flip that around, the heat-like pain usually associated with stretching can be seen (to slip into metaphor) as a cleansing or releasing kind of fire - after all, pain isn't necessarily bad as our reflexive reaction usually labels it.

Random quote of the day, by William James - "We have grown literally afraid to be poor. We despise anyone who elects to be poor in order to simplify and save his inner life. If he does not join the general scramble and pant with the money-making street, we deem him spiritless and lacking in ambition."
---Maybe it doesn't have to have the label 'poor,' per se, but I can think of several people who I really admire because of their 'inner life' (and consequent relative lack of material wealth), and a lot of people who I've lost respect for because they've come to fit the other side of that quote. That's not to say I can't think of a few people who I admire for their 'inner life' who also have high ambitions in the other regard, but I guess it's a matter of proportion on each side.

So, up late last night for no particular reason (actually, nightmares from a nap earlier in the day), caught an episode of The Boondocks. And I have to say, whoever is in charge of animation for that show has a keen appreciation of martial arts. In one fight scene alone, I saw my favorite move lifted straight out of the lovely choreography of Troy, several references to specific moves in Bruce Lee's Enter the Dragon (and in the script, there, as well), axe and tornado kicks (one of those things where if you see them in a fight scene you know the choreographer enjoys martial arts on a deeper level), and I think even a slight animation-kudo to a Teen Titans bit. And before that, it was Kill Bill-references combined with more samurai movie references, and even some great Cowboy Bebop-style stuff thrown in there; I just want to shake the hand of whoever put that much effort in. Or, if female, give them a big thank you kiss. Hell, maybe if they're male, too, it was pretty rocking.

Curious George, with Will Ferrell and Drew Barrymore. While I would probably end up calling this 'movie-lite' in the end, I mean that in an entirely complimentary way. I guess I'd say it was like a children's book in film-form, with a pleasant soundtrack and a lovely animation style, and I was certainly smiling nigh the entire time. I thought the parallels to King Kong in terms of the plot were interesting (I begin to wonder whether there's a subgenre for that sort of story...), and the little bits of metafiction and trappings of modern culture as well. That is, Disney movies from back in the day and even movies like The Incredibles, for example, seem to be in a kind of time-less setting pretty consistently, and this one in contrast relied upon Starbucks coffee cups and cell phone cameras; I wonder what that begins to say about how children's lit/theatre is changing and what that says about kids nowadays.

Random quote of the day (Quentin Crisp) - "It is explained that all relationships require a little give and take. This is untrue. Any partnership demands that we give and give and give and at the last, as we flop into our graves exhausted, we are told that we didn't give enough." - I think a few other people besides me might end up reading that and laughing a little darkly, as well

For a good long while lately, I was under a mistaken impression. That is, the last relationship I was in left me with a feeling that I was too shy or cautious to get out and try new things or travel. I won't say that the negative shift was entirely the other person's fault, it always takes two to tango, but I will acknowledge that they certainly hammered it home with comments and actions.

But then something clicked a little while ago. I remembered that nigh every time I go into a store or restaurant, I make a point of trying something new - whether it's a strange fruit, a green drink, or a foreign movie with a cute title that I know nothing about. Most every time I go to a restaurant or coffee shop I try a new dish or drink. I love going to random workshops, seminars, and concerts, just to learn new things and meet new people. And I've been having conversations every other day about trips everywhere from the next city over to Europe (Brittany, N. Italy, and London, my feet will trod upon thee...). It's not like I ever really stopped doing most of those things; just, my perception of them had become skewed. So it's kind of a relief, and kind of a...center'ing feeling to remember that; no, I was never so hesitant and reclusive as I had come to think.

Random tricks of accent and slang I've noted lately while working with Mexican/Vietnamese (this would be a lot better with the IPA, but I'll try to do it phonetically):
wozwon - accented 'warehouse one,' really sped up, but I was confused for a while when the intercom was calling me to "wozwon!"
Hojay (not really a 'j,' more the sound of the second syllable of 'garage') - accented Jose, who's ironically only called Jose on paper nowadays
wawl - I could actually use more information on this one, it appears to be the more en vogue replacement of 'ese,' and is used kind of like 'omae' used to be in Shadowrun, if anyone gets that reference
cholo - kind of insulting, kind of like 'vato,' but seemingly more centered around being devoted to cars or trucks mod'ed in poor taste

I think they should have made it look like a fire flower, personally; and have it play the sound effect for when Mario gets fireballs whenever it goes off. Tangentially, if anyone reads this who's actually seen ball lightning, I'm sure we'd all love to hear about it...

Random quotes of the day by Samuel Butler:
"Eating is touch carried to the bitter end."
---
"Let us be grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appearance only."

One, I just wanted to note the first rain we've had in several months in Tucson. It was kind of wan and sad winter rain, but it seemed to make everyone happy. It seemed interesting to me that everywhere from just walking around to the radio to the evening news, everyone was just going on about the rain and the scent of it; I guess that shows what it means round these parts.

Two, had a great conversation with a random guy from the warehouse about Alexander the Great. Does anyone know whether he was actually poisoned, or was it fever or what? Tangentially, if anyone ever made other twenty-some year old males feel unaccomplished, it's that dude.

Three, had a great conversation about the local metal scene with a lady welder. Disturbed is coming to town, apparently, and it really is true that no one can understand a single thing Ozzy says if you meet him in person.

Since I'm a martial arts nerd, I thought I'd just echo here some things one of our head instructors was using as examples in teaching. If you want to see fighting that resembles Ko Sho's Okinawan karate in the movies, check out most Wesley Snipes movies, and to a very secondary extent Van Damme - that is, in the sense that they set->go! and in the lack of flow in their movements; it's pummeling that relies on a hard hit having a noticeable or stun-effect. Hence, the general admiration of the Blade movies in the dojo. For the other, secondary component of that same Okinawan karate, the unique taizu exercises for speed that are based on Chinese teaching, Jet Li movies set in modern times are a good example, with his emphasis on sheer amount of hits over power and continuous flow.

Now, if someone could find me some jujitsu and Filipino arts examples besides the lovely, albeit nigh unique, ones in Stargate Atlantis, I'd be a happy happy camper....

I just want to note, first of all, that as much as I want to jabber about the most recent L Word, I am restraining myself. I put the urge down to the writers concentrating well on character development (but tangentially, and unrelated to what I would have rambled about, damn that was a surprising amount of sweaty naked bodies).

Anyhoo, I was thinking while driving along in the very pleasantly summer-like night, with the sunroof open to the city-lit clouds, about the local community radio station. Or, at least, one reason I really like it besides the wonderful tangos and sambas that mixed with the cool breeze last night. That is, that it helps to turn Tucson into something like the city-that-is-any-city in Charles de Lint's writing. Just for a couple examples, the late night dj's with the lovely smokey voices that play whatever they damn well please, and the access to (and their avid support of) the local music scene which is actually quite rich, Tucson being the kinda-artsy town that it is.

Without KXCI, there would just be the commercial stations with their endlessly repetitive, nationally decided playlists, and finding the next time Hans and the Attache would be playing at Plush would require checking every week for a half-torn, stapled up flyer (which would be do-able, but KXCI is like a helper-buddy that holds together what would otherwise be random and unconnected events).

Random Robert Frost quotes of the day!
"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."
-and-
"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession."

I've read articles about emotions suddenly springing up while doing yoga (hell, I think that was even in an episode of The L Word), running on the idea that releasing tension in the body is reflected in the mind/emotions. Haven't actually encountered it, though; that is, while doing yoga, at any rate. Where I have run into it is while working out. Not while doing forms or martial drills, interestingly - that seems to build a confidence of sorts, I think because of the attached thoughts of adrenaline and intent - but only with more inwardly directed exercise, like bridging or bodyweight movements.

So, while it's a bit annoying to feel a sudden subtle dizziness at feelings I'm confused about, or distracting to work through an ache in my chest that isn't muscular at all, I suppose it's probably healthy to release those tensions I wasn't consciously aware of. I mean, while it does almost make me have an aversion to working out sometimes, because I'm a little afraid of what might well up against my will, I just have to remember that just because it might be painful or disconcerting, that doesn't mean it has to have a bad connotation.

There're another couple questions I noted last night about it. One, is it just that working out keys into my emotions in a way that yoga doesn't (that is, maybe that's just how my body works, in needing more vigorous motion than relaxing)? And two, is it because I try to integrate yoga-based exercises and breathing in, or just a function of working out in general? In any case, it feels like an interesting example of the difference I'd read about between thought and emotion, where emotion has a physical aspect attached to it (that ache in my chest, for example).

Random Little Poem of the Day (because Basho rules, and I need to find my favorite haiku of his): "Without the bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance to the whole world?"

Hm...don't really have much to say today at all. I'm in a generally somewhat kind of confused state, I think. Which isn't bad at all. Just...shifty.

(Quite Cool) Random Quote of the Day: "Meditation is when you sit down and do nothing. Poetry is when you sit down and do something" - Norman Fischer

I just wanted to note that instead of watching the Super Bowl, my dad went to a symphony and I went to a dance performance. And you know what? We loved it. And everyone else who was watching football was bored and/or falling asleep. Irony.

A Feast for Crows, by George Martin. Martin continues to be one of my favorite authors; the novels in this series are high fantasy, but Martin continues to write it in a very down to earth manner, and furthermore I think he's a master of character development and character-driven plots. I'll note quickly that his writing may at the same time be a bit too violent and sometimes even too brutal - for example, the gal who gave me my copy wrote on the inside cover, 'Hope your favorite characters don't get killed off!' That's another thing to note, actually, if you've been keeping up with this series, Martin took the interesting route of actually splitting the myriad and complex plot threads into two, as he put in an afterward (paraphrasing): "the whole story of half the characters rather than half the story of all the characters."

As usual, he has continued to expand the setting in relatively original ways and go further into the various characters; where the first few novels were mixes of violence, sex, and intrigue, I'd say this one was weighted more intrigue-sex-violence. The most interesting part of the story for me is the Frank Herbert-like exploration of a contrast between religion as an uncontrollable force (Jihad-principle) and religion as a political tool. The one thing I'd say he could have toned down was the occasional tediousness of listing the characteristics of every last banner in a given situation, though I suppose that might be a necessary aspect of high fantasy.

Random Quote of the Day: "Descartes declared, 'I think, therefore I am.' But yogis say, 'I think, therefore I am confused about who I am.'" - a little tongue-in-cheek, but apt, I think

Mohammed Image Archive - for one, the name of this website itself is completely ironic; I think it's interesting that there's so many interesting pieces of art concerning something/one that's generally not even supposed to be depicted at all

Stuff Sucks - I haven't really read any webcomics in forever, but this one randomly caught my eye somehow; I think the coloring is interestingly unusual, and the humor is quirky. Also, it is "Made in Amsterdam."

      Man, sleeping on my belly is messing with me; well, that is, waking up with my face hanging off the edge of the bed was somewhat disorienting. Alas, such are the sacrifices we must make for some ink. Anyway, so as I was waking up, I flipped on the Saturday morning cartoons, and pleasantly found Ben 10 to be on. Not only does it have a catchy theme song, but it also moves out of the general cartoon cliches to use that great subgenre, the roadtrip, as its backbone. What I think is interesting about using the roadtrip genre in a cartoon is the episodic nature of it; rather than picking one overarching road-setting (Europe in Eurotrip, Route 66, the Oregon Trail being horribly obvious examples) and having that set part of the tone, the cartoon is free to shift settings at will. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it would be hard to fit satires of every summer trip archetype from 'by the lake' to visiting D.C. to camping in national parks to seeing the world's largest rubber band ball. Sure, it's a cartoon about a kid superhero, but I think the real value is in the subtler roadtrip-satire jokes.

Bubblesoap - haven't seen a clever project like this in a while

They're making a Tristram Shandy movie! I am left bereft of words.

      My plans for tonight having fallen through (ah, Urgent Care, I tangentially blame thee), I naturally did what I've done the last few times that's happened. I went out anyway. Tonight, it was to see the lovely Canadian band Po' Girl at Hotel Congress. The opener was a very pleasant surprise, another gal from Canada, whom I think I developed a crush on, fell a tiny bit in love with, and then was sad when she said she was going back across the continent, all in the space of her set. But hey, I've got some practice with similar situations and people also named Carolyn, so it's cool.
      Po' Girl herself...themselves...however that syntax should be was great, no bones about it. It was kind of blues-y, kind of country, kind of folk, but with that unique Canadian diphthong thrown in, which was interesting. The ladies have beautiful voices, and play everything from accordians to harmonicas to washtub bass to guitar and fiddle. That, and it was cute that they marvelled so at seeing a cactus for the first time, even amongst all their other charm. If or when they come to Tucson again, I'll definitely make it a point to go.

Since a lament was voiced recently that duels weren't in fashion anymore (though it was agreed that a good slogan for a martial arts school would be "Good old fashioned fisticuffs."), I figured why not glance through what we've got going on in that regard in our martial arts school.

Basically, there're two aspects that just recently...ah, came into vogue. One - just plain challenging people. This one's mostly for the little kids, to help them to build confidence in being assertive with their challenge, and to give them a little bit of structure for their roughhousing, as opposed to just randomly tackling someone. It is quite funny to see someone three feet tall call out someone who's about 6'7" for a throwdown, though.

The other side of it grew out of our 'Session' as a practical drill. That is, we have Session, which is a lot like sticky-hands in wing chun, but with less emphasis on trapping and more on unbalancing and joint locks; then there's the more karate side of the same, which is basically striking and parrying at trapping range, but without the trapping. But with the former, the Session-players can get lost in trapping and sticking, and forget to strike or sometimes even do anything of consequence, and with the latter can get lost in seeing who can get the most brutal blows in the alotted time without putting much thought or technique into it.

So: an actual use for karate-style assigning of points - first to three. Instead of flowing for the length of a minute round, say, you pause a moment and start over when someone gets a clean hit or unbalancing. This is practically useful in keeping the disadvantages from above from generating, and generally leads to two variations: either someone gets smacked upside the head without barely reacting at all, which leads to laughter and sheepish looks, or short series of parries which end up actually quite graceful sometimes and end with a clean hit to the neck or ribs, which leads to laughter and admiring nodding. Good times.

Random Quote of the Day: "Once I planned to write a book of poems entirely about the things in my pocket. But I found it would be too long; and the age of the great epics is past." - I think we should bring back epic poetry, or at least some long ballads; Autobiography of Red, for example, is a wonderfully eerie example of a 'novel in verse,' as it's billed

Nahh...couldn't be real...but it would cool if it was...

Lots of blood and pain. Yup. But, getting my tattoo re-done and expanded was fun, all in all. I really like this relatively new place - if you're in Tucson, Arizona, check out Metro Tattoo, they've got some great artists, who are nice and personable to boot (and/or bloody crazy), and a lovely piercer who seems quite knowledgeable. Personally, I was even attracted to the decor of the place - instead of tacky flash everywhere and glaring lights, the walls are in various shades of red, with prints of dark angels and fae tastefully spread about, plants, and leather couches. It's like a comfy, stylish lounge.

So...the inking itself. A lot of similes come to mind, involving feelings of scalpels or needles, but I think the most painful aspect is actually the vibration, of all things. That, and when it gets near or over bone (the vibrations transmit down your skeleton a ways) and the fun pain-tingles near the spine. All that said, it's certainly an ordeal, but not an unmanageable one; I recognize that what I have is relatively large, but moreover it's the amount of outlining and color put into it, so it's not quite a sleeve but it was certainly a bit more time and work than the average tattoo.

I think I shifted all the way through whatever repertoire I have of meditation/pain management stuff over the course of the given hours, but two points stuck as working well - the not very meditative, 'pfft, this ain't nothing next to emotion-pain/heartbreak,' and the more effective, 'pain is only assigned a bad connotation by reflex, it's just another sensation and isn't intrinsically good or bad, but just is.' I think I did okay, got a compliment or two on stillness, and the people in the shop thought I was bored or falling asleep at a few points.

Actually, it was quite relaxing, in truth. Lots of endorphins probably helped, though the adrenal rush left me starving. I had a flash of thought at one point, that maybe in some ways people who cut themselves unconsciously use the pain to approach a meditative state, which in a sense is healthy but the route to it isn't quite. I'm not sure how to explain that thought further but am glad of the insight, or better understanding or what, if there's any verity to it.

Also, I had already thought Alice Cooper was a pretty rocking guy (business and music-wise), but his radio show (which was playing in the shop) is awesome - great songs, witty commentary, even his voice is pleasantly resonant. I'm glad I finally got to hear it after reading good ol' Metallica Bryan's review of it who knows how long ago.

Quick quotes -
"It's a strange world of language in which skating on thin ice can get you into hot water." (just because I love language tricks like that)
---
"To be like Christ is to be a Christian." - I think Christianity would feel more accessible to me if it focused on something simple and concise like that, rather than allowing itself to fall into fundamentalist or ritualistic traps. That, and I think many a Christian over the centuries has forgotten that little tenet. But hey, who am I to judge?

I read an interesting thought last night; basically, that hearing is the only sense that we don't have to try harder to use - where you can adjust the muscles around your eye to focus better, you can't try harder to hear something. Instead, as the ears are passive sensory organs, you have to quiet your thoughts or move your attention away from your other sensory input to pay more attention to what is there regardless of what effort you make.

So, granted, you can try harder to see something with your eyes, and in a different sense you have to reach out to physically touch something, so I could see that argument. Ok, and yeah, you can physically sniff more to smell something better, and put something in your mouth to taste it. What about the subtler senses, though, like our sense of space or objects-in-space, or our sense of what's happening internally in our bodies (there's a medical term for that, I'll find it)? Are those passive and requiring of attention rather than effort (there's my vote), or are they more active senses?

      More randomness! Today, while stalking the wild and crazy bonsai tree in the Santa Rita mountains, I got to see an oddity. That is, just over a ridge was this sudden area of white. Apparently, amidst all the high-desert scrub of juniper in red-brown dirt and clay, (we learned this from a geologist) a bit of a different kind of material welled up from the ground at some point in the distant past, and kind of...well, popped or something. And voila - white clay! Which isn't horribly notable except for being a bit creepy in a hidden vale kind of way, but: there are these really twisted, stunted, strangely trunk'ed, and ancient trees growing in the little gullies and crags. It's just odd, as these are the kind of trees that really only grow in California, and there aren't any super-old (talking hundreds and even up to thousand year old trees, here) anywhere nearby. Just in the white clay. Yep. Weird.

      Also, the last full moon was fun, though I forgot to write about it till now. I went out for one of those getting-home-really-late walks, and after a bit realized the clouds were moving at a relatively break-neck speed. What was particularly interesting about this was that the moon was so bright that as the clouds moved past it, a kind of bright-dim-bright effect that you'd normally only see during the day with the sun was happening, which made for an odd very-dark-version-of-daytime feeling. Also, I noticed that the city lights were reflecting off the clouds to the south in a lovely rosy-orange way, and then I noticed that the clouds were moving along in this stately parade or river or basically in a a certain line across the sky. They didn't fill up the entirety of the dark, but were instead all travelling along the same current, and in that wind-current were moving fast and low enough that I could even watch the vapors change shape and form as they passe the moon. Good times.

Random Question of the Day - how did ancient people figure out which herbs and plants had medicinal properties? Did they just walk around trying stuff, or perhaps more intelligently foist them off on people they didn't like, maybe?

15 Hours, by Mitchel Scanlon. Ahh, beer and pretzel science fiction. It occurs to me that I should perhaps assign a particular beer to the book; alas, I'm drawing a blank at the moment, for this one. For the future, then. Anyhoo, compared to the likes of authors that normally write within the 40k shared setting, such as Dan Abnett, this novel isn't that great. It's not bad, it's certainly very short at any rate, so...it's okay. Okay is a good word for it.

A few things did pique my interest about it. One, it seemed a uniquely 'American' 40k story; I couldn't tell you why, perhaps something with starting in a kind of Midwest farm analogue, but I had forgotten how, well, 'British' most 40k stories are. Two, the chapter headers, which were quite funny in a very dry way. And three, the narration dips into these introspective moments, which form an interesting progression of the main character coming to terms with his situation, and as such (however sacrilegious this may sound to 40k fans) took on a yogic bent. And that, if I'm right about it, would be deeply ironic, and a credit to the author for slipping it in there.

Creepy fish - we'll go with another triad of comments: one, I would not want sashimi made of such, though I do very much like sashimi. Two, I find it cool that there is an "Underwater Times." Three, I am a bit disappointed they do not have a Page 3 Mermaids section. Sadness.

Random Unexpectedly Freudian Quote of the Day: "...our ego-feeling is only a shrunken residue of a much more inclusive, indeed an all-embracing, feeling which corresponded to a more intimate bond between the ego and the world around it." As that could just as easily come out of a meditation text, I long for the days back in lit. theory where we had someone fluent in German to check the standard 1950's WASPy translations.

I'm running on about an hour's worth of sleep, so I don't really remember what I had wanted to write about today. Why am I so hungry, though? I had Denny's at....three in the morning, that should have held me other I'd think. Hm. Also, that old cliche about 'Think about baseball' in awkward situations? It actually worked in the clinch of the moment. Somehow it seems funny to consider that folk wisdom of a sort, but hey.

Anyway, I did remember one thing; on a random show about body modification (split tongues, tats, hanging from hooks, etc) I was listening to while working out (I just realized a slight irony there), there was an interesting contrast made. That is, that plastic surgery is often much more invasive or extensive than what people would usually consider 'extreme' body modification, and yet it is almost entirely directed towards being invisible. The best plastic surgery (barring ginormous stripper boobs) should theoretically be nigh impossible to even tell it was done; and in the same token, it's for blending in, usually, not standing out.

Obliquely, yesterday I met a woman who had the web between her upper lip and her gums pierced. Hm. Not much to say about that, except that it actually wasn't that bad looking. Oh: other random trivia - smoking a pipe is a lot easier to conceal from night vision than a cigarette. There was more random trivia from the soldiers just back from Korea, but honestly I got kind of lost in the deluge of acronyms as early in the morning as I heard it, so don't recall much unfortunately.

Random thoughts, haven’t done that in a while. One, I’d kind of noted this before, but not so consistently as lately – I had listened to a Buddhist meditation cd I’d gotten as a Christmas gift, and one little line in it said something about relaxing muscles you didn’t even realize were tense. So that got me thinking. And over a couple days, I realized my tongue is often tensed up against my palate, my lower abdominals pull my torso downwards, and even as I’m walking or driving, my toes and feet tend to curl and tense a little.

It’s a funny kind of tenseness that has obviously become unconscious habit, for each time I relax my belly and stand up straighter or relax my feet and feel my ankles loosen, I’m guessing about two seconds later they’re tense again. So, I suppose this is going to take a good amount more conscious effort on my part, especially in consistency, and all the same makes me wonder what the hell else I’m tensing without realizing it.

The other thing that clicked for me recently was a possible similarity between aikido and yoga. In each, an ideal aspect is looking for that physical-mental space where no effort is being expended to complete the task at hand. For aikido, in purely ideal sense that would make it the ultimate martial art, in terms of Bruce Lee’s respected adage that maximum efficiency is one of the highest goals in fighting. But for both, the trick is that (at least to learn the skill) it takes effort in a sense to put your body-mind in a position where it doesn’t need to expend effort, and then once that’s accomplished to keep from trying to expend energy anyway out of habit.

So I could perhaps see aikido as a way of learning to interact with other people on a subtle level, just as in yoga you learn to interact with yourself in a similar way, like when you hold onto negative emotions in the same way you’d hold a negative pose – learning to be relaxed and open even with pain (and, to loop around, perhaps being the uke in aikido acts in a similar role, in learning to take pain dispensed by another).

Kôhî jikô (Café Lumière), with Yo Hitoto and Tadanobu Asano. I randomly picked this up because I liked the title, and was pleasantly surprised. I should note, however, that this probably isn't a film that should be watched if you're tired (I was exhausted at the time). It's...well, super-relaxing,, like a lullaby, or maybe meditative would be a better word. The movie as a whole is almost silent, and very still in terms of motion - the camera barely moves for each scene, giving you ample time to practically study what's in the frame, and sometimes you have to, as the main character might just be another face in the background crowd. The dialogue is very spare, and very every-day in nature; I think where I'm going with all this is that I'd like to find articles or something about this movie, as I feel like I caught everything that was said and not said, and yet at the same time wouldn't be surprised if I'd missed out on a huge amount of content.

Underworld: Evolution, with Kate Beckinsale and Scott Speedman. And Beckinsale's butt. Mmmhmm. Anyhoo, I thought this was quite an improvement over the original, which had disappointed me (on account of having little action for a vampire-vs-werewolf story, ripping off White Wolf's World of Darkness, and not going far past the shallow). This sequel, in contrast, hugely upgraded the action and amount of it, and took the backstory in a direction that was no longer so ripped off (if kind of unexplained). I suppose I'd say the improvements in story and character are dependent upon having the introduction that the first movie was...come to think of it, I suppose that's how I'd think of the original, as an introduction. Evolution doesn't exactly conclude a lot, but it did at least expand the setting and story further, which was fun; I suppose I've been spoiled by preferring the expansiveness of the World of Darkness shared setting, so in remembering that, I thought Evolution performed nicely in what it did.

Random Quote of the Day - kind of a generalization, but I think it kind of captures the spirit of the thing:
"The medieval university looked backwards; it professed to be a storehouse of old knowledge. The modern university looks forward, and is a factory of new knowledge."

The Transporter 2, with Jason Statham. I expect I'll go see any movie with Statham in a fighting role, if for no other reason than since the first Transporter I was so completely surprised to find out he is such a skilled martial artist. That said, I think this was a fun movie; it seemed to me that they took every scene and said, "How can we make this so completely over the top it becomes hilarious?" And damn it, they pulled it off - I could not stop laughing. I think it's good that they definitely were not taking themselves seriously in making this film, as it really isn't anything more than Statham playing up the eponymous character and some relatively original choreography, and they didn't stumble in trying to overreach that like martial arts films often do. Oh, and they poke at the French, in not too mean of a way, that was kind of fun.

Also, two random things I've heard about Tucson and the Southwest lately - one, apparently prickly pear pads and...pears, hm, that was bad syntax. Anyway, that cactus and its fruit are great for helping with diabetes and high cholesterol; they're not really sure why, yet, but think it has something to do with the gums or fibers in cactus that aren't normally found in other plants.

The other thing is just that I heard Tucson compared to Alaskan cities, which seemed odd at first to me, but as the woman with the luscious voice being interviewed on the radio described, Tucson is technically a big city, but it has an inescapably small-town feel, which I think is quite true. Especially when you delve into the more community-aspects of it (bars/coffee shops/local music scene, hell, even dojos, etc), rather than, say, just staying within a university or single-area bubble (like just staying in the more relatively posh Foothills). Though...I suppose even the university turns out kind of like a college-town feel in that area of town, in the end.

Must Love Dogs, with John Cusack and Diane Lane. I think this movie didn't do amazingly well in the theatres for a few reasons - it's centered on relatively older people than the norm for romantic comedies, with correspondingly different priorities and a different kind of romance, it's a little slow and meandering, and it's for the most part down to earth. As such, however, I really enjoyed it. As per the usual for a movie with Cusack in it, I thought the dialogue was witty and the humor quirky, and all with a general understated class.

On a personal level, the story was quite cathartic for me, as I identified with three of the main characters in a way that felt uncanny - like, I wouldn't have been surprised if the credits had ended with, "Frank, this is your life." In the same token, I'm sure most people coming off heartbreak after a long relationship would feel the same, but I think that speaks to the relevance and quality of the characterization and story than anything else. On a more facetious personal level, that so much of the movie had to do with rowing felt horribly, darkly ironic, but I suppose that's funny in a way.

Addendum to that previous post on depression (or, a realization I had later on). I think up till this most recent bout, one of my main issues with approaching my depression was trying to address it alone. Now, what I mean by that I think takes a bit of explanation. Every previous time I'd been depressed, and well into the recent bout, I'd denied it - whether by denying the fact that I was, or realizing I was depressed but railing against it and wishing I wasn't, for any number of reasons, but perhaps most of all because I felt it made me less of a person. But no, it doesn't - I'm me, and anyone who runs into that trouble is just who they are; we're aren't 'depressed,' we are who we are, and we happen to have to deal with that condition on our selves sometimes. Who knows, maybe we're the better for it in the end, or maybe we can choose to be.

To make a shallow loop, in realizing I was depressed I'd finally reached out for...well, rescue would I think be the best word. And completely faceplanted, hard, when it turned out I had been complacent in having faith in that supposed salvation, and the hand I thought was pulling me up just...let go, all of a sudden. In that, I'm not sure whether I'll trust like that again, and leave myself so vulnerable, but truth be told I shouldn't have been relying on another so much anyway; so in that sense, it seems better to address my depression alone.

But - not alone. I had been alone in addressing it before in denying it - once I stopped denying it and started to try to accept and even embrace it like I did with my headaches, then I wasn't alone anymore - finally, after all that conscious and unconscious struggling with it, all that turning my back on myself, I was helping myself. So...not so alone.

Time of the Twins, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. First, thanks to Bryce in receiving for randomly giving me this out of nowhere - can't beat a random well-intentioned gift. Unfortunately, the novel didn't turn out so well. The first in a trilogy following the original Dragonlance epic, I think I'd call this Dragonlance-lite. There are less characters, less complexity of plot, even just less happening at all. I almost felt like I wanted the whole thing to be a novella instead of the length it was, especially for the way the potential of plumbing the depths of the relationship between the twins in question was shied away from.

And, they kept the damn kender in there; I remember in the original trilogy he was mildly annoying, but served his purpose and even developed a solid amount of depth near the end. And I suppose the concept of the kender in their fearlessness and other odd qualities was interesting way back when, when I was so absorbed in that original story. But this time around, with so much of the novel from his point of view and reliant upon him...oh, I could barely stand it. On this reason: one of the qualities previously referred to is that these little buggers have no concept of personal property, which is fine, makes for amusing situations and innocent looks ha ha and all that.

But, in that they also have no concept of the word consequence, and no idea that their actions might affect or hurt other people, and on top of all that can rationalize like motherfuckers. And half the novel was from this thing's point of view...yeah, I suppose me having trouble with what should, I suppose, otherwise be amusing might seem odd to most people, but I think others will understand.

If you know me, you know I get headaches. Or, at least, I used to anyway. Now they are uncommon enough that I've begun to wonder whether they're just a slightly amped version of the kind of headaches that people normally get. I used to hate my head. The constant and random aches were oppressive, like those experiments where the dog just gives in to despair because it is randomly electrocuted and has no way of predicting when it will happen. I completely adored those who could relieve it, whether by a cool hand on the cheek or otherwise.

But then, there was a certain point where I think I just began to consciously accept the aches. I knew that sometime every morning I'd get slammed and have to rage against myself to keep my eyes open against the painful light of even a darkened room, otherwise I'd get in trouble for 'falling asleep' at work. I knew as I wrote papers late into the night that the leaden weight that my skull had become wasn't going to get any lighter...and I actually started smiling at it at some point. When it felt like a spike had been driven into my temple out of nowhere and made me toss my head, I'd let it have its moment, and when it passed I'd laugh it off. Just another ache. Somehow, some way I had come around to appreciating them, in a twisted way. They'd taught me how to deal with pain, with unwillingly shifted emotion, to work under pressure (literally, in a sense).

But, something I've never admitted till recently, because, frankly, I was ashamed, was how closely bouts of depression were tied into those aches. For the longest time I held an intense scorn for myself - where do I come off claiming 'depression' after what I'd seen at the hospital? I told myself to stop being an idiot and not to bitch about moping around. But, with clearer 'vision' lately, I can see how my aches combined with that dark water inside me, that murk that would well up in my consciousness and leave me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, or clutching myself in the middle of a crowd with tears in my eyes. Though my mentions of this thought have been almost universally rebuffed - I'm an upstanding young man with nothing to complain about, after all, how could I possibly be depressed, and if I am, get over it, it can't be that bad, and all that jazz - I'm past the point of caring.

I've finally come to start accepting it, just as I came to accept my aches; hell, the depression is a lot like the aches - sometimes with stimulus readily apparent, sometimes not, arriving against my will, and not leaving despite my will. An interesting aspect of it that I had not realized is that depression isn't an emotion - rather, it is something that affects emotion, and that seems a somewhat profound thing. Anyway, part of my accepting is just huge changes in personality, not in an overt way, but more subtle - a veil over my eyes falling away, it feels like. Part of it is meditative practice - at my first depression when I was younger, I'd sit and stare at the city lights for long periods of time, and just try to stop thinking. A later time, I began to slow my breathing to as close to stillness as possible as the rain fell on my skin, and began to find relief...but then lost the practice when things 'got better again.'

This time, however, I've begun to research, to learn, to train...I'm trying to take those old unconscious impulses towards meditation, where I had no idea why I was doing it, little say what I was doing, and direct them with purpose and help this time, and I'm finally coming close to smiling at 'my old friend' depression, the same way I did at the headaches. As much as I feel some impulse to regret what brought on the depression or my old reactions to it, I don't, at heart; lessons learned, I suppose. So here's to the people in my life from now on - some part of me will always be in minor key, I feel, but I'll be all the brighter for you from now on, nonetheless.

I'm not sure it's the best, but it's a kind of clever blonde joke

Aaand some more random quotes:
"Beauty is composed of an eternal, invariable element whose quantity is extremely difficult to determine, and a relative element which might be, either by turns or all at once, period, fashion, moral, passion."

-now, this one I don't mesh with entirely, but it's interesting:
"The cinema is not an art which films life: the cinema is something between art and life. Unlike painting and literature, the cinema both gives to life and takes from it, and I try to render this concept in my films. Literature and painting both exist as art from the very start; the cinema doesn't."

Random Quote of the Day (found out of context, not sure why it's so snipey towards Homer):
"Tu Fu comes from a saner, older, more secular culture than Homer, and it is not a new discovery with thim that the gods, the abstractions, the forces of nature, are frivolous, lewd, vicious, quarrelsome, and cruel, and only men's steadfastness, love, magnanimity, calmness, and compassion redeem the night-bound world."

Another bit from 'Threnody's Song.' I suppose I should explain a tiny bit, I think I've got a few different kinds of...sections that have developed in the course of daily writing; there are the 'scenes' I've already posted; notes on meditation texts I'm working through or advice given to me set in lyrical form; sections where I try to work out mental/emotional problems, in the same lyrical form; and then this kind, which I put in every couple of days or so. I hesitate to explain the goddess/Threnody/Karuna thing here, half because I suspect 9 out of 10 people would dismiss the thought as 'weird' before my first sentence was finished, and half because it's too personal, but if you're curious feel free to ask, I'll write or call you.

My goddess is dual on this bitter winter morn.
Threnody, striding forward in boots and leathers of jet,
her wings of smoke and ember'ed ash rippling behind,
and yet with a heart that is burning bright and light.
Karuna, graceful and softer in pale terra cotta and white,
warm and cool and calm, lost in her thoughts,
but with resolve apparent - a sword of heart's blood
and compassion's resonant song on her lips.

As Threnody stands watch, Karuna helps me up from where I kneel,
recovering from the blow to my heart's throat, delivered by the taker's dream.

We stand, back to back to back, in a Sardaukar's triangle.
We stand at the edge of an abyss, my maya.
I know I am afraid of what lurks in that darkness of imagination and denied reality.
I acknowledge that.
I stand on the edge, armed only with poem and will.
Karuna's chin resting over my shoulder, Threnody's hand in mine.
We are afraid. But fear and sadness have their time, and pass.
And we stand. Together.

*'Sardaukar's triangle' is a reference to a really specific scene in a novel, and has a whole wealth of connotations stemming from that phrase, which I probably shouldn't bore people with, and maya is...Sanskrit, I think, a concept kind of like the subconscious, but also quite distinct from that.

Casanova, with Heath Ledger and Sienna Miller. Firstly, as my date for the evening repeatedly gushed, "Heath Ledger is hot." I thought Miller was quite nice, as well, though I wonder whether that was mostly in redheaded-ness for this movie making her resemble Margeurite Moreau. I think it's mostly agreed about this movie that it's not exactly great, but it's....cute. It's definitely cute. It has a spot or two of swashbuckling (I'll note the clever/accurate choreography when Casanova wields a cane purely vertically near the end), a decent romance, and something of a twisty plot. There's humor throughout, generally of the kind where in laughing you almost want to put a hand to your mouth modestly, so that was fun. Having been an English major in a past life, though, I have to wonder whether it was intentional that Casanova should carry around a large, thick, penis. I mean cane. Carry around a thick cane with a metal bulge on one end.

Conflict: Desert Storm 2 - Back to Baghdad. I'd had a hankering since a long time ago to play one of these modern-set wargames, but as I rarely if I ever get to play videogames lately, this was a pleasant chance to try one out. And I deem it rocking. Not because of the action, ironically, which is kind of okay, I suppose...ish. But because of the teamwork; there is no playing against your buddy - there is only co-op. And if you know me and video games, you know I've always been a big proponent of co-op. Unfortunately, most games that do have that option have it as kind of an oddly crowded variant of just playing by yourself; this game, however, seemed designed for it. And though it's a very scripted game, in that it really did make us work together, and then even further work together in controlling multiple characters simultaneously within the game. There was teamwork everywhere, it was crazy. And having worked together to complete pleasantly stress-inducing goals, high-fives abound.

Another rambling upon how choosing one's words can be important, by me. Tadaa!

So, in a way I'll not and probably couldn't explain effectively, something was done last week that left me feeling quite angry, a little confused, and basically, very violated if nothing else. Tangentially, the funny part about it is that the person who did it not only probably didn't even realize the choice being made might do that (not that there was any expectation at all of caring), and even if they did in some way, I'm going to guess that it would be completely incomprehensible to them as to why. But, nothing to be done, there's no reason for me to call 'grievance!' and I'm really just trying to let it go, barring my initial reaction. Anyway, so I initially found out about the thing in question...I guess a couple days after the fact.

The person (Person A) that told me about it was a little apologetic...but only in that she had 'bad news' to tell me, as it were. I do appreciate her honesty in that regard, because...well, I very much appreciate frank honesty (had to get a pun in). But it was the way she went about telling me about it - it's hard to describe without details, but basically, praise was sung, rationalizations and explanations were made, and a general air of 'perfectly-normal-event' was described. And ironically, though the way those things were said was pretty much completely positive, those positive statements were describing an act of violation - and left me feeling like complete shit...very perplexed, complete shit, because I was torn between me being hurt/stabbed in the back, and hearing it described as a nice, pleasant thing. I've really no idea, but I'm going to guess that was out of obliviousness for how her words might affect me more than any conscious intent on her part, in that she really was just giving her honest thoughts about the situation.

Person B, a couple days later, responded to my evasive, one sentence description of the thing in question in a completely different way. She also gave me her honest opinion of it, but finally nailed the lid on the coffin of my second-guessing of myself by her evaluation of it being what it was (a very wrong thing to do) with a spot of logic to dispel my dubious look. Even better, though, and more importantly than anything else she said, she shifted my perspective back 'out' from the situation enough that it didn't matter that she was also angered and went on to point out the presence of the several friends of ours nearby who would agree with her - with her first sentence she made me think something like, 'wait - step back from it a little,' and that was a sweet relief from the weight of that abuse upon my shoulders. Her insightfulness in her choice of words was infinitely more pleasant to hear than the Person A's honesty, because while both were completely honest remarks upon the same thing, Person B's remarks were said with care for me/my feelings in mind.

The end.

I'm not sure I've ever gotten so 'SAD' as to count as having a disorder, but I just wanted to throw another random, possibly helpful to that one random person in Antarctica or something, article out there. Yay.


I think something similar happened with me, the dog, and a coyote once; there was much more apparent spilled trash, however, and less conversating and more staring down.

"Care is a state in which something does matter; it is the source of human tenderness." - Rollo May

I read this and it struck a particularly painful chord in me, because of the way the first phrase is worded. So I wanted to note how a simple choice in wording something can affect a phrase so much (if it was, 'something is very important,' I wouldn't have hardly looked at it). And secondly I wanted to note that I thought that it seems a profound and yet easy thing to heal, to me, in that one can make the choice for something to matter to them or not, and generate compassion and have the benefits that that garners. I can watch a kid struggle to read a book, watching his face contort and his lips move as he tries to sound out each word, and choose for it not to matter to me - it doesn't matter to me, he ain't my kid - or I can choose to say, it does matter, and sit down and read with him, and encourage him, and choose that side of humanity to define myself.

A couple odes, in prose. Prodes, if you will. First, to Sensei Tony. Though I trudged my way to class, not looking forward to spending an hour and a half with eleven year olds, somehow he completely made it all ok by giving me a little confidence/emotion boost at the end of the night - not anything to do with martial arts at all, but just in general. Now that's a rocking teacher. I think regardless of what happens in the future and despite all the recent changes in this regard, I'd still like him to be the...uh, priest-figure I guess, I'm not sure of the term, for me and whomever I marry.

And for a completely different 'prode,' to Shane on The L Word. Yes, there are much 'prettier' actresses on the show, and perhaps more 'feminine,' but I think bar none the woman who plays Shane is the most attractive. She's a hundred times skinnier than I'm usually attracted to, though she does have a lovely low voice, and...well, she's practically androgynous in appearance. I don't know what it is, I think it might be her assuredness of personality and psyche - amongst all the other characters with their issues of identity and not being able to make up their minds or taking issue with other characters, Shane is like a rock in terms of those things, and the actress does a great job of extending that into her demeanor. And for whatever reason, that seems totally hawt, to trip and fall into a valley girl vernacular.

I can't really tell whether it applies to me, but maybe this Ayurvedic approach to headaches might work for someone else. Though I lean towards the cluster side of things, or, to borrow a term from sailing, being cluster-fucked, I've not quite been able to fit myself into a really pitta type.

Another bit from 'Threnody's Song'; it seems the parts that are easiest to take out are these descriptions of scenes, written mostly in my head as they occurred, I think because they are more directed outward than the inward rest.

"It was to be a sedate night; find a chanteuse, and coffee, ink and paper in hand.
Ghosts from the past were tempting, however, though I hardly seem to know them, now.
The painted guide was soon slumbering, in the middle of a crowd.
A false priestess and tall harlot held court, gesturing honey
and demanding tales of the past.
The host and dusky northerner held their silence close, however,
even as the once-angel in his wreathe of smoke and the jigsaw savant poured forth.
I fear I have become misaligned; though I knelt at the foot of a throne,
I was no courtier – only errant in a homeland become foreign,
all oaths I’d made broken ‘gainst my will. No fealty, no loyalty;
I feel one step out of phase.
I wondered, as we played at sticks in the lopsided court,
if I could find others, misaligned, what would we then be, together?"

I remembered something, reading "Tallulah" by Charles de Lint, which is kind of a commentary on the same; not some thing, really, but a state I was in for a very long while, where I was actually so happy as to have difficulty thinking of anything to write. Not so much that I couldn't think of anything, but it was just a different state of thinking, so I did write some things, if less frequently, but they were either love poetry, or of a more transcendental bent than what I've done lately. I'm not exactly sure where I was going with this, except maybe to reflect on my life in general being reflected my creative impulse, I suppose.

The Girl Next Door, with Elisha Cuthbert and Emile Hirsch. The DVD was pressed into my hands with the promise of eye-candy galore, so in my expectation to see another mindless comedy with random flashes of skin I was disappointed. I was, on the other hand, quite pleasantly surprised by what depth the story did have, and in its sweetness. To swing right back the other way, however, I couldn’t help but feel quite embittered by the story’s ‘if you give everything you can for your true love, it’ll all turn out ok’ message, though I suppose that’s just my perception-of-the-moment and is no mark on the movie; same goes for the uncannily-the-same-as personal sweet little romantic moments, though I suppose that’s a sign I should just stay away from romantic comedies for a while. As a completely obscure reference that ironically ties back into that last sentence a bit, this is the second movie I’ve seen that had used the Sneakerpimps on its soundtrack – 10 points.

Random quote of the day: “No one in this world views it the same...I believe that is what amazes me the most about it. Each person has his or her own vision of the world, and whatever lies outside that worldview becomes invisible. The rich ignore the poor. The happy can’t see those who are hurting.”

Secretary, with Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader. First of all, I'd like to note that the tagline for this movie is fun: "Assume the position." At the same time I'd like to note, however, that while that inobstrusively clever line might make the film sound a bit like a comedy, it's really more a straight-up romance. A...kind of strange, ever so vaguely American Beauty kind of romance, anyway. I feel kind of hobbled in discussing it like I'd like to; in any case, I'm going to guess that most people would probably be too disturbed by the idea of bondage to get past being uncomfortable, but if you don't have an issue or can get past it, this is an oddly warming and quietly understated romance with great cinematography.

Later addendum: I thought it interesting that there was a posit in the story that basically defined the one character's submission to the other that basically paraphrased, if not quoted something out of a meditation book I was reading, just with a difference in who the sentence was referring to as subject. If anyone happens to see that movie, I'd like to talk about the part where she walks home alone for the first time, in that regard.

Random Quote of the Day: "Adults are always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up because they are looking for ideas."

also, new photomagraphy

Since I've gotten some odd looks in regards to it before, random explanation time! In my family, when talking about our extended family, we often append names that describe what their general relationship is - 'Aunt Nuha,' for example, which I'm sure is pretty regular, but then also 'cousin Christina.' In some cases it's kind of logical, with an Aunt Abi and a cousin Abby, so I think that's where part of it stems from, but I think also is the crossing of generation-lines in our abundance of relatives. For example, Uncle Freddie's son is cousin Freddie, but cousin Freddie's daughter is cousin Tia - but at the same time, my mom talks about cousin Joann in Texas, who is her cousin, but not a cousin in the sense we call the other cousins cousin, but my granddad's brother is Uncle Nelson....hm. Now that I actually think about it, there really isn't any steady logic to it. So for some odd reason we add an extra sort of prefix to our relatives' names beyond what I've usually heard when people talk about their family. Yay! Probably mostly useless post!

Other random family observation, to no real purpose: I heard some statistics being bandied around the other day of how many people in the U.S. supposedly believe in some sort of god, how many attend church, and other related things. But, fifty percent of statistics are made up on the spot and all that. Anyway. It just made me reflect a little how my family, whom I do know better than statistics and feel I can make a somewhat more proper obvservation of, is generally 'spiritual,' I think, but in a quietly individualistic way. Not like, the entirely family attends church at once, per se, but there is various common experience with meditation or exploration into that kind of yoga or zen-ish spirituality and at the same time a common base of more mainstream-ish moralistic spirituality among us, even as we're all perhaps a bit more outwardly different from each other in whatever beliefs we have. Not that me making that observation really means anything in particular or is something to be analyzed in any way at all, but there it is.

The L Word has sparked my interest lately. Luckily, as about the only time I've really watched television recently has been super late at night after plopping on the couch, that's exactly when multiple episodes of it at a time are on. I'll freely admit that a large part of the reason for me not flipping the channel at first was quite base and probably ironically testosterone fueled. But, the show does have high production values and quality acting, and though it is basically a soap opera for all intents and purposes, but the nature of its setting which is populated almost exclusively by lesbians it approaches gender and feminism issues with some relish; I've not quite been able to divine enough about those issues as of yet to dive into actual animated discussion of them, but I find (and have found) observing the discussion and playing out thereof in this show (and some particularly odd experiences working at a hospital) to be quite interesting.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, with some limey kids. And Jesus, playing the lion. And Battle Santa! As was aptly described to me before I saw it, moments of awesome separated by interminable...not boredom, per se, but very extended slowness. The animation was wonderful, especially in the battle scenes, but the allegory was pretty hardcore heavy-handed, though (Wyatt said it isn't so much in the novel). I suppose in a sense some of it was a bit too directly for a kiddie audience, for my taste, or maybe rather too much so to hold my attention. Tangentially, however, I did find myself identifying with the oldest brother to a degree I haven’t in a long with any character in a long while, not so much in any particular detail as his general attitude in various situations, for whatever that was worth.

Ok, first little excerpt out of "Threnody's Song," for better or worse:

A night of singing and clarinets, and incense of ashes and cloves.
A girl pretending to be a woman, a broken girl, crying softly over a list of conquests:
a sideways reflection of broken me.
An apprentice healer, aloof, lilting her eyes laconically, quietly,
with a past like a shadow from moonlight, shy and hidden and dark.
The dancing guide, aching at memories that should not be her own,
at the wild inside her, so at odds with her melancholy longing.
The light of the sapphire ember’ed braziers was muted
in the black glass and dark mahogany.
We were all a little broken, in the midnight’s shadowed firelight;
but we smiled, nonetheless.

Quote of the Day: "Didn't neon and streetlights yearn to be starlight?"

When I first read Dune, I thought the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear was kind of a catchy way of helping the reader to feel inspired by the main characters' struggles, as they recited it therein. Much later on, I think around when I was doing my thesis on the novel, I realized there was kind of a zen thing going on in it - that is, at the end of it, when there is that duality between there being nothing, and yet there being the self at the same time (zen in it being a paradox, perhaps pointing to something beyond it...). Even more recently, after all the research and practice I've been doing in terms of meditation, the Litany suddenly blossoms with a bit more meaning. I'm not sure how sensically I can summarize the thought, but here goes.

I'm still not sure about the first part as anything but characteristic of its source within the story, and maybe obliquely aesthetic in purpose. But facing the emotion, and accepting it (whether by acknowledging its reality, letting it pass, surrendering to it or whatever) is a common meditative practice, which doesn't seem like anything at face value within the Litany, but takes on a whole new semantic value with practical experience with that exercise. The next and last part of the Litany is doubly interesting in that regard, that is when viewed through the lense of the idea of there being an ego-self and a Self that is beyond that - with that last "I" taking on a whole new kind of emphasis when the ego-associated emotion has been nixed. And if that didn't make any sense at all, well, email me or something.

A tangential thought to all that is that after such big changes in my life and psyche, and all the effort I've put into those so far, I feel like I've come to one of those points where I want to go back through all my old favorite novels and movies and read and watch them over again - like, I feel like I got new glasses, that make things clearer, and remove the glare created by my old preconceptions to probably extend that analogy too far. So, further thoughts are probably to come, in other words.

Shall We Dance?, with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez. Well...my mom enjoyed watching Gere. And I enjoyed watching Lopez. Susan Sarandon was also in it, but didn't really move out of a secondary role at all. I suppose this was an okay remake of the Japanese original, which I still think is a wonderful movie; they're identical in terms of most of the plot and characters, but I'll maintain that the Japanese version was much more understated and classy, while the American version stated outright everything in voiceovers and dialogue what was accomplished by gesture and body language, or simply not saying it, in the original.

Traitor General and His Last Command, by Dan Abnett. First of all, I think that Abnett is bar none one of the best authors in terms of writing in a cinematic style; each of his novels is like a literary version of Saving Private Ryan in an IMAX theatre. These most recent of his novels in a series following the exploits of Gaunt’s Ghosts, a wonderful mishmash of characters that are worth following through several books, are somewhat different than earlier stories in that they have something of a tighter focus. Traitor General concentrates on a small group of the main characters through the course of a desperately quickly paced story that doesn’t exactly end, but pulls a Dune and leaves the plot just as it’s really beginning, in a sense (hopefully I'm not ruining anything by saying that, it should be fairly obvious by a certain point that there's no way the novel could reasonably end within its size).

Interestingly, His Last Command doesn’t pick up at all where Traitor General leaves off, but rather sidesteps the actual telling of a good deal, and instead shows the results of that missing time in distinct changes in the characters involved, and follows their reintegration with the rest of the family/community of characters. Also, as usual, Abnett’s science fiction settings, while placed within the 40k shared setting, are crafted with care and originality, with that of Traitor General having special note because of it’s exploration of the evil side’s perspective, as it were.

Kicking and Screaming, with Will Ferrell and Kate Walsh. Also Robert Duvall and Mike Ditka randomly, but I don't really care about them so much. But anyway. What happened to the days when they used to make good kid-sports movies, like The Mighty Ducks, or The Sandlot? Those movies had at least the semblance of a plot, and sometimes even character development. This one, however, was disjointed, had a horribly skewed story arc, and there's some sort of anti-character development going on, that last bit which I suppose is kind of interesting in a roundabout way. Thank you Wyatt for taking credit for picking this one to rent; that was courageous of you.

King Kong, with Jack Black and Naomi Watts. Though a humongous amount of detail and action and amazing imagery was crammed into this film's three hours, and I'm sure much of it was cut to get that time, we actually found it kind of boring. The best explanation we've come up with is that any given scene just went on for too long; even the most interesting, epic creatures and movement can start to wear on one after a while, I suppose is what we felt. Perhaps, it was mostly a showcase for the awesome accomplishment of animating Kong; the characters and story, while true to and in some parts improvements on the original, didn't seem to develop or change in any noticeable way. I think if one went into the movie looking for theory kind of stuff, like aspects of Kong or the island being explored as representations of the unknown and monstrous within the psyche, there might be more to be gotten out of it. Or maybe this was all just the mood I was in, I don't know. I did like the fun references to Conrad's writing, that was nice, though I don't remember whether it was in the original?

Extinction, by Lisa Smedman. Yet another in the War of the Spider Queen shared setting, I enjoyed this one in a specific sense; it didn't have barely if any action or intrigue compared to the novels previous to it in the series, but it delved nicely into the awakening of some of the characters as they encounter a cultural clash that changes them utterly. Though very little actually happens in this novel, I think it was well worth it to devote that much attention to slowing down to appreciate what those characters go through internally. That said, if this novel is recognized as a kind of interlude amongst its busier neighbors in the series, that's a big help to enjoying it.

Lyrics of the Morning:
"Baby Jesus...you were born to rock."

"I was as helpless as a chess piece."

Word of the Day: nexterday - though I'm not really sure what it means

Finally started to get some things out of karate. Besides a knot right on the juncture of my elbow by the point of a stray elbow of another. Ironically, I think the most valuable things I’ve gotten so far seem to have little to do with pure karate at all. I suppose in that sense my ranged fighting has begun to change in some ways; I’m not sure whether to say ‘improve,’ as I still think kali tudo or muay thai are the way to go in that regard till years are spent with karate, but change. Rather, I think some of my disillusionment with martial arts has been dispelled, in my perspective on them changing in regards to myself. And maybe a bit of a renewal of confidence in my teaching skills, in getting a really whiny, probably fruity, and kind of apathetic youngling to do a technique flow strongly and with his own confidence.

So, gone the old aspirations to be simply as badass as possible. If I was training for that reason, I’d not be working and would be getting ready to go to Thailand with one of the other dojo students. “It’s okay to be exactly where you are,” right? I can more than hold my own, usually, and keep improving, and that’s once more enough for me. Back to hints of realizations that are coming to full, finally; what started this click was one phrase last night: “Your center of balance is always your center of balance.” Well, in truth, what opened me to that have been all my experiences lately, and the profound changes they have wrought in me, but that phrase was the catalyst for the martial arts realizations, as to why I’m continuing to practice them – maybe not back to the quantity I used to, well probably not at all, but I’ll keep in touch with them for sure. Just as the principle follows that the body and mind’s conditions reflect each other, I’m suddenly remembering that knowledge of the body and knowledge of the mind might reflect each other as well (that self-study in both regards being a primary principle of yoga and meditation, though I can’t remember the Sanskrit word for it even though I just read it).

In that phrase, for example, it seems interesting that your center of balance is always exactly that – your center of balance – and yet it is constantly changing, and is almost never still. And that seems a perfect metaphor for one’s Self as well, as with each minute, each new experience we change a little bit, and yet, we are always exactly who we are. And then perhaps circles back to a physical aspect of meditation being a way to get in touch with or know the unchanging aspect of that self, in that physically our center of balance is still for the moment (for sitting meditation, at any rate). To come back to martial arts or yoga (gross versus subtle movement?), if one’s knowledge of one’s physical center of balance improves, does their intimacy with their inner center/self improve as well?

And to circle back to martial arts from a different direction, not only is knowledge of one’s self gained – but also interaction with other’s center of balance, as well. And not just center of balance, but being able to read intentions and body language, being able to blend with another and match rhythms and find openings and interact and have sensitivity not just in physical contact (grappling and trapping) but in terms of location in space, as well (capoeira as prime example, there). The amazing thing to me is that all of those phrases can be applied to one’s Self interacting with another’s Self as well, if one’s knowledge of their physical self and physical principles can be applied internally, or if they reflect internally.

Of course, that’s not just martial arts, obviously. The other best example that almost jumps out at me is rowing. My knowledge of that is only second-hand, but I remember hearing about the aspiration towards unity in physical rhythm and intention among the rowers, and the thrill when they got closer and closer to it. And if that’s not an obvious connection back to yoga and meditation – but with that new aspect of connection with others– I don’t know what is.

Pride and Prejudice. As much as this story hit way too close to home in many ways, I enjoyed it a good deal. I dare say it made us want to talk with much more propriety in our daily lives, for one, and the music was quite pleasant throughout. I'm not sure why, but the cinematography made me feel that I was somehow actually reading a book even as I watched. Lastly, I practically wanted a Mr. Darcy by the end.

I thought this was clever

Random quote of the day: "Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable."

Other random quote of the day: "The better an SF writer is, the more subtly and effectively he will play off against the experienced reader's analytical skills. At the highest levels, SFnal exposition takes on the nature of a delicate, powerful intellectual dance or game between writer and reader, requiring much from both and rewarding both very richly."

Worst dream in years. So, technically a nightmare, I guess. Maybe all the worse because it seems perfectly plausible as a premonition? I almost want to just go back home from work, except then I'd just be home alone all day.

The idea of any sort of gestalt kind of connection between different beings is something I've always wanted to believe in, but never really could make myself. I think that's why I like seeing flocks of birds, though, or schools of fish, I suppose. Something about the way they move in such perfect coordination reminds me that there might be some kind of telepathy thing that we're missing. I know, I know, there's some scientific explanation for how birds can keep from just outright colliding, but I haven't heard it yet, so I'll stick with my passing thought for the moment.

So Ms. Connie sent me this article; as I replied to her, having been an English major when I was in school I couldn't help but think of the tusk from that point on as a giant phallus. Then I thought of unicorns. Never will I think of a little girl's collection the same way. Of course, it was then pointed out to me by Connie that unicorns generally only like pure and virginal things. I have an urge to write a limerick involving the words 'dickhead' and 'unicorn,' but I'd be afraid of the fanciful horse's name being applied to pedophiles, considering one inevitable topic.

There was fog this morning, which is of especial note in Tucson for its sheer amount. But then I also drive by a driving range on my way to work, and as that's basically a depression filled with grass that's lower than the surrounding ground level, it was filled with solid fog as if it were a bowl, where the rest of the vapor that low in the city had burned off. Nothing much to that, just an interesting image.

      Random things night. So, one thing I've learned - the nine-to-five lifestyle makes for perception that there is very little time for anything. I could speculate as to why, argue against that perception, and remark upon my own evidence, but I'll just leave it as noting that I've heard it in the tone of the voices of several people who are also stuck in it for the moment, from the clone-girl (not really attack of the clones, but maybe slightly-weirded-out by the clone) at the street fair to high-paying jobs to cross-country. Maybe I'll return to those other three things at some point. If I have time. Ba-dum tshhh.
      In the karate forms we did tonight I noted two mudras (little hand position thingies to start the form) that I thought were interesting. My favorites are still the mudras that are actually practical, close range little nasties, but I liked these because one is basically described as 'opening a book,' and the other is 'holding a small ball.' The first because it's all symbolic (*nodding*), and the second because it's kind of cute.
      Xuemei had an interesting experience where she had to watch a video of herself interviewing a patient, who she thought was Australian but turned out to be from Boston. The trick was, the camera only caught her, so she's acting out a doctor's role, but interviewing a patient who's entirely out of the frame. I'm not sure if that could be avant-garde, or at least something that would make for a small essay in lit. or film theory if the interview had the right questions and answers.
      I just got the Yoga Journal calendar for the coming year. Quite pretty, great photography, pretty cheap.
      Tonight, I tried a Naked brand protein drink. It was quite tasty, actually, though I didn't appreciate having to sit with the grit that coated my mouth after each sip.

      And it rained, tonight. I would have written a poem, except this would have been even more incisive into myself than the poem-diary-thingie. I'll talk around what I would have written, I guess. The best moments of my life have had some quality in them that could be described as 'cool water,' or some variation of that. That's not to say that every encounter with colder-than-lukewarm water is a great moment for me, or that tonight was one, but the rain reminded me or them; bittersweet melancholy and all that jazz, yadda yadda yawn. Anyway. Goodnight.

      My mom's reviews of science fiction shows! I won't even get into why she actually sat through and paid attention to two of them. She liked Stargate SG-1, but that's possibly mostly because it was the remarkably sedate episode where Carter meets that ascended human dude, which is vaguely romantic. Still, she said she liked the writing and the actress who plays Carter. She thought Firefly was vaguely interesting, but not as 'classy' as SG-1, and for both shows laughed to see actors that she hadn't seen for many years (apparently the preacher in Firefly used to be on some sitcom?).

Well, it's not exactly as fulfilling as the old smallpox/cancer research project, but maybe aliens will come and give us the cure for those things or something (they have it for both Mac and PC now)

I wonder whether there aren't enough objects in the asteroid belt and the Oort cloud for everyone to get their name literally on something (from Wyatt)

Quote of the Day: "I believe it was Voltaire who said, 'Well, then fuck them.'" Well, I thought it was kind of funny at any rate.

I like the Southwest. Anyone who knows me probably knows this about me. So, a random loopy praising of such, in an indirect manner.

Ever notice how there’s no Northwestern Literature classes, or Midwest Literature classes? Ah, but there are most definitely Southwest Literature classes. No other landscape has quite the qualities to lend to a whole genre of its own; the Southwest landscape is often described as having similar importance in that genre to one of the characters or plot. Where a forest story is usually about the mystery and shadow created by that landscape, or an arctic story is often about stark survival, a story in the desert has both starkness and survival on one side and life persevering on the other. And at the same time, nothing in a desert is what it seems, and yet is clear at the same time – there are hidden and apparent needles among the flowers. And it is a desert that is characterized as that most epic of places, of the biggest skies, the tallest storms and wide expanses.

The great director of Westerns, John Ford, went to immense lengths to find just those expanses in an age where the only way to create landscapes of epic nature was to actually find them and film in them. Frank Herbert used the desert landscape as an integral part of his colossal Dune series, combining the romanticism of Southwest literature with science fiction. Cultures from both sides of Europe to Japan have become fascinated with Western stories. I could go on listing, so I’ll just stop there I suppose. Somebody tell me if they think I missed anything.