deconstructing the art of randomness

I love the sound of the Latin language, especially when it's chanted.

I think everybody should chant in Latin. All the time. And it should always begin with "Carpe Cheesecake"

I think people who are overly fashion forward look like they just got punk'd...and still don't get it.

People are always going places...to the beach, to the store, to the top... I'm still not sure what all the fascination is with movement.

I am a fan of fanning.

Anthropomorphic is my new favorite word. Because it makes me sound smart. Just like an anthropomorph.

I enjoy being in the grey area of the spectrum

I'd like to get back into lap swimming but the inertia is kicking my ass.

All these phone calls are interrupting my fantasies about Randy Orton. I wish they would just stop.

The phone calls, not the fantasies. *sigh*

I wish I followed football so that I could go to football parties and not be the only completely clueless idiot there.

I can't watch football. Too many rules + too much "stop and go" = no parties. .
There's always something...

I need more books.

I need more cheesecake.

I need more focus (not on books or cheesecake)

The National Geographic channel pretty much rules. I mean, where else can you learn about desert dwelling tribes, 500 year old Italians vampires, and naked praying pagans back to back? Nat Geo, baby!

I am rather enjoying hedonism. Which is sort of like Paganism. Without all that naked praying stuff.

I think I watch too much TV...in fact, I'm pretty sure I do.

According to the Discovery Channel, dragonflies have such tiny brains that they are unable to process and analyze data like other animals (I know people like that). The reason they can fly in huge swarms and not hit each other is because they operate on instinct and reaction rather than thought. (I know people like that, too...minus the flying part)

Whoever said that TV rots your brain is a damn liar.

I've realized that my dream of being a professional world traveler is directly relational to the number of rich, unattached friends I have who are willing to take the journey with me.

I think I need new friends.

Or perhaps my relational skills are starting to fail me. *sigh* I blame the Nat Geo Channel.

You remind me of the babe. (What babe?) The babe with the power. (What power?) The power of voodoo. (Who do?) You do. (Do what?) Remind me of the babe.

No, I still don't know who the babe is.

Stupid call for the day:
CALLER: Yes, hello? I'm here (in the lobby) for my appointment.
ME: Okaaaay...
CALLER: So...should I come up?
ME: *OH.MY.GOD. Noooooo, stay down there. We'll tie a couple of tin cans together with some string, throw one out the window, and communicate that way.*
Yes, please. Third floor.
CALLER: How do I get there?
ME: *pause* THE ELEVATOR. Or the stairs, if you prefer.
CALLER: It says the elevator out of order.
ME: Fine. Then take the stairs.
CALLER: Third floor?
me: YESSS.
CALLER: I cannot take the stairs.
ME: *this should be good* Why not?
CALLER: My elbow hurts.
ME: *are you fuckin' serious?!*
Huh? What does that have to do with WALKING up the stairs?
CALLER: oh, because it hurts that's why, so I cannot walk...
ME: *because you're doing it on your fuckin' elbow?!*
Maybe you'd like to go back home (and start your day over) and call us when you're feeling a little better.
CALLER: Oh yeah. Because then no need stairs.
ME: Riiight. No need stairs...

* Although I suppose this IS slightly better than the guy who wanted to sue McDonalds because they gave him orange juice with too much PULP. I am so not cut out jobs requiring proper telephone etiquette*

The Religion of Love

This is a re-post of Tanya's latest blog (and if you've ever read any of MY blogs, you probably know who she is ;-). I wanted to share this because her thoughts on this matter pretty much mirror my thoughts, as well. Although I must say she is much better at staying on track and summarizing without rambling, as I am wont to do. Again, if you've read my blogs then, well...you know.

I love this poem, and I love this blog.
Because I am curious. Because I love learning. And because the only thing I know with all certainty is how much I DON'T know and will probably never understand in this lifetime, I try to remain open-minded to every possibility.

___________________________________
My heart has become capable of every form:
It is a pasture for gazelles,
And a monastery for Christian monks,
And a temple for idols,
And the Ka’aba of the pilgrims,
And the tablets of the Torah,
And the book of the Qur’an.
I follow the religion of love:
Whatever path Love’s camel takes,
That is my religion and my faith.

~Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi

I came across this poem while perusing Seane Corn's website in search of more information on Vinyasa Yoga and yoga programs for children here on Maui. Sidebar: there are no accessible classes for children of working parents and I think tdhat I may inquire to the YMCA about incorporating a program into the A+ program -- but I digress from my original thought flow for this blog. So ... like I said, I came across this translation of a poem by Ibn Arabi and fell in love with it immediately. Why? You may ask. Well I have been having what I can only describe as a war of thoughts lighting up my brain. I have been violently annoyed with the hypocrisy of the attendees of organized religion, the perversion of the messages of sacred tomes that serve as the cornerstones of the mainstream religions, the ignorance of the sheep who would follow the wolf blindly into the night. By the same token, I shake my head at the equal zealous adherence to scientific evolution and intolerance toward spirituality ... as if binary code alone could unlock the mystery of the universe and the existence thereof. It has been a push and pull of angel/devil arguments inside my brain as I peruse the evolution fan site on Facebook. Then yesterday, I guess I looked like a heathen in need of saving, for I was accosted in the parking lot of Safeway by two Mormon missionaries. I looked up into the heavens and inquired ... "Really God? Really?" Then today I found that poetry passage ... as if He, the Universe, She ... were telling me it's okay Tanya. Don't sweat it. It can be All.

In the words of the bloggess and De-Ann ... "Well played God. Well played."