Global Conscious Blog

I've recently started contributing to a blog called Global Conscious Blog. It hasn't quite launched yet, but hopefully by the end of the month it will have the first posts released.

Also, my friend Jason, has given me a spot on his domain brainmilkshakes.net and access to WordPress here.

story prt.2

Where is that guy, Katrina thinks to herself. She glances at her watch. John's fifteen minutes late. He's not late often, but she's not worried. She knows he wants to meet her for coffee, so she just relaxes and waits for the knock on the door. Her basement suite is fairly light for being half underground, but it still feels like perpetual evening when she's inside. It's one of the reasons she can't stand being cooped up in the house for more than a few hours and is anxious to get outdoors. Even though it's not the brightest place, she's tried to liven it up with a few plants scattered here and there. Half are dead from lack of attention, but there are a couple still going strong; her favorites. It's not a messy place. Not the cleanest either. She's never been a big fan of a dresser so all her clothes are strewn around on the floor of her bedroom, but the communal areas are kept up to snuff just in case she has company. The TV drones on about something or other. Her mind's wandering and it's all just background noise. It's a wonderful daydream. She's with someone. They've spent the day walking through the park and are home now watching a movie she chose. Comfortable and safe with this person, a conglomeration of herself and others her mind melded together and in such a way knows more intimately than anyone else. She startles as the phone rings. Bah, she thinks. I bet it's John. He better be on his way.

Story prt.1

I would like to start a story here on my blog. I know that there are almost no readers of this blog, but if someone, on an off chance, does happen by my blog and reads the story I am going to try and write a piece of every week, then I hope they might make suggestions. Call it a choose your own adventure/story, in a sense (remember those books from when we were kids?) I have no idea where this is going to lead so any input is welcome. Anyhoo, onto the story.

It's bright. Almost too bright. It's even too bright when the clouds cover the sky. Damn these blue eyes, John thinks. Bah, I bet even brown eyed people are having trouble keeping both open today. He glances to his left and spies a couple sitting in a cafe. The girl is laughing at something her boyfriend just said. Isn't it nice, John thinks. All this happiness and I get none of it.

Wait. There are those occasions where it creeps in, his mind conceeds. Like the last time I was playing a game of soccer with my pals and Paul went for a header, but the ball was travelling so quickly it knocked him off his feet and he jumped back up yelling, "Yeah!" Ahhh, good times. If only I was sevenenteen again. Then that thought quickly passes as he dismisses just how good it would be to be seventeen again.

His gaze shifts and he notices a man standing on top of a box with a kazoo-like instrument in his mouth, all dressed in white, pretending to be a robot. He's seen this a hundred times and it still amazes him that so many congregate around this individual to watch and laugh favorably. Not only that... but they even pay him. John continues to survey the landsape and his next eye candy is a band playing for a group of people. This is something John gets. He understands the skill involved in playing an instrument. Not only that, but also, playing an instrument in a group, which requires some level of skill he can respect. Even he is enjoying the music coming from the bongos, xylophone, drums, maracas and voice of the band. It adds to the whole scene. It even brings enjoyment to the manbot with the kazoo.

His mind shifts to his destination. Thinking to himself, he hopes that there are still some dealers on the corner. What about that girl over there. Wow, she's amazingly attractive. He shakes it off. Doesn't want to stare. Just then he walks past a panhandler. "Hi." He says. She responds with a smile and a kind word. John passes her and after half a block thinks to himslef, "damn, I had a toonie in my pocket... should I go back? No... There are so many poor, you can't help them all all the time, hell, you're almost one of them." Yet John knows that even though he might be close to what some may consider poor, he's by no means destitute.

John reaches the block he's been heading for in hopes of scoring some weed. "God, what I wouldn't give for a joint today," he thinks to himself. This time there's no police around and his hopes raise. He continues up the block and as he passes someone they, almost inadubly say, "buds?" John stops in his tracks. "Sure."
"What'd you like?"
"Couple dime bags would be sweet."
"You've come to the right man."
"Awsome." John says. Waiting is always uncomfortalbe so he chimes in. "Thank god it stopped rainin."
"Yeah. Here ya go."
"Thanks man." John passes the folded twenty stashed in his pocket to the weed-man and in the same motion the weed-man passes over the two baggies of pot. A large grin crosses John's face. Mission accomplished.

Language

lol, how can I even begin. existence is something we would all love to explain and I none more than others. I can try, but really, when it comes down to it, I don't think I could without some kind of musical accompaniment, which I would gladly use Sigor Ross as my sound track (listening to it right now heh).
When trying to understand how all things fit together, the only way to describe the complexity is to put it to sound. our language fails miserablely. It can only, horribly I might add, approximate the totality that is out there. Of course, you might say to yourself, what am I doing writing it down in words then? I would reply that it's the only medium I have at my disposal to begin to explain reality even if I believe that music is closer to reality... not only music, but the vocalizations of many animals on this planet. When I speak to my cat Mia, he understands something of what I say and I him, only because there are, undeniably, certain vocalizations and sounds, syntactic or not that congure up emotional responses that I can't deny. When Mia is upset, or in need of something, I understand, and when he is happy, I also understand. I don't nescessarily understand the specifics of his request but I do know the basics.
One might ask, why it is that understanding is possible, but when you look at it carefully it becomes clear; i understand him because certain sounds within themselves have meaning. If I try and move towards abstract thought then, yes, I agree, it becomes problematic in the sense that emotional responses are inadequate to explain the phemonema, but that doesn't account for the true and unequivocalble understanding that exists when I hear him ask for food, or for attention.
Why is this important you might ask. Well, the very fact that animals other than human beings communicate is imporatant. If you accepted the fact that chickens or a cow might be saying something relevent to their existence, it would become drastically difficult to dispose of their vocalizations as noise and to assume that perhaps they have something relevent to say in relation to their own existence would become reasonable.
I find it amusing that when you step outside and hear music coming from a few, if not hundreds of birds, you dismiss it as noise, or random sounds. Listen carefully over a period of time and you will come to the realization that there is structure and meaning in their communications. This is not assuming that you will come to understand their language, if you'd like to call it that, but that you acknowledge the fact there is communication occuring.
Is this significant? Hell yes. How could any sane person ignore the fact that other animals communicate to each other. One of the things which troubles me is the gap which has grown between us and the rest of existence on this planet. I'm not trying to make any statements as to vegitarianism or anything of the sort, all I am saying is that the animal kindom, which we are part of, is not as different from ourselves as we might imagine. Our symbology is drastically different from their's and, without equivocation, is more abstract than the average mammalian, however, this does not lead me to believe that a language, which I don't understand, or that which I have come to understand as more subtle or simplistic as my own, is less useful in describing my experience. While understanding this it becomes clear that language is more than syntax. It's not something which is espoused in english, or spanish, or italian for that matter. It's something which is described in understanding.
There is a reason why the civilizations of old thought of ravens as gods. Have you ever listened to them for a period? I have, and they are definatly talking to each other. There is no doubt in my mind that other species on this planet have languages outside our own, and outside our direct interpretation other than on a very basic level that we share with this diffent species, more specficically, on an emotional level.
There is no end to this post, other than I might add that for a complete explanation of the complexity would take a book. Perhaps I'll someday find the time, or words, to write such a treatise, but as it stands for now, I'll leave it too this blog post.

Happiness

It's so nice. Isn't it? I mean, wouldn't you consider part of the definition of being happy nice? I think it is. I don't really have any idea where I'm going with this post, but I haven't posted in a bit so I figured I should say something about something and for some reason that something that came to my head was happiness.

Emotions are hard items to discuss. If there was anything that was subjective it would be emotions. Even though we all agree that to be happy involved certain behaviours, eg., smiling, cooing, purring, laughing, and the like, I think the reasons why we experience the emotion and the congruent behaviour don't nescessarily matter. What matters is the emotion, period, the behaviour is secondary. There are those that take neuronal evidence to disswade us from this conclusion, citing that there is a reaction in the brain which often preceds the emotional response and I don't deny that often it is the case that our emotions proceed the stimuli, however, it seems to me and my own experience, that there are many instances that emotions have been the instigators of my behaviour. It's a never ending ciclic argument, which has not real purpose to the discussion. Emotions exist and they are not subject to behaviour, nor is behaviour subject to emotion, as can be exemplified by my own personal experience again (and I would be very suspect if you didn't agree.)

Now, when talking about happiness (I've already got a grin on my face) I have a hard time narrowing it down. This is because of what I was talking about previously... what I might consider happy could very well have no effect whatsoever on another. Does this matter? no, not really, also because of what i was saying before. However, the emotion of happiness is not something that can be considered a point of perspective. When someone is happy, they are happy, period. There is no arguing that fact. Partly due to us being incapable of catching someone in a lie without expception when discussing mental states.

Now, what does it mean to be happy? This is where it becomes a bit more difficult, because when trying to describe happiness it requires me to talk from personal experience and my form of happiness is by definition not that of someone eleses. Happiness is that state in which you forget the many worries which constantly berrate you. It is the emotion which links a thought or event with what you consider to be a benefit to you or those you care about (this includes comdey, as when a comic makes a joke, the reason for it being funny, is because it has a resonance with you, under one of those two conditions).

Happiness can, of course, be congruent with almost any other emotion, including; fear, anger, joy, love, and the like. I suppose this should end up in a more general disscusion regarding emotions, but that's for another time. For the moment I am going to try and put happiness into words as I would experience it.

Happiness is: a grin which can become a smile, or a hearty laugh. It can be music, or a person's being, when they mix with my thoughts, in such a way as to create amusment. It can sneak up on me, or be something I work for. it can be unwanted or desperately needed. It can leave before I want it too, or last so long it hurts. One thing it is unequivicably, is a presence of peace within and sometimes, on those really lucky occasions, from without.

joy

isn't everything just wonderful?

Praise the Lord!

Here's something else to shake your head at. it's comments from the US Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson.

Jon Stewart to host Oscars

Now, when I first heard this I was quite happy. I don't useually watch the oscars, but this year I'll certainly be more inclined to as I find Jon to be a laugh riot. But, what made me split my sides last night was not his comedy (although he did do that earlier to me in the evening), it was the comments some people made about him and other various issues at the bottom of this article from 'Oscar Beat' in the LA Times.

A couple of my favorite quotes from the very astute republican american's are:
"Just remember.....Not all Muslims are terrorists....but all of the terrorists were Muslim."
and
"This is a democracy and conservatives shouldn't have to take bulls**t from minorities..."

Priceless.