An Ode To You

“Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,

Or has won

A true and loving wife,

All who can call at least one soul theirs,

Join in our song of praise” 

–“Ode to Joy” Beethoven’s 9 Symphony

I really want to thank all the special people in my life who have always been there for me, always stood by me no matter what and who have always been there in the stands with banners and foam fingers.

To those who held my hand as I took a step off my soapbox, to those who held my hand as I lifted myself off the floor.

To those who stood by even when they knew I was wrong, to those who gave me the confidence to admit that sometimes I’m right.

Thank you to those who dried my tears, and to those who decided to join in and cry with me.

Thank you to those who helped me grow, reminded me to take a minute and think about what “I” want.
Those who reminded me that I can do it, that I will get through it, that I will fix it and that I will come out on the other end and I will be standing.

To those who were brave enough to tell me the brutal, the harsh, the honest, no-nonsense truth.
To those who whispered to me that I have something on my face, or that my socks don’t match.

Thank you for answering your phones at 3am when I am in dire need of someone to listen to me plan an event in my head, listen to me rant, cry, edit a paper, or just sit silently on the other end so I don’t have to study alone.

Thank you for the good luck messages, the “get well soon”s and the “I love you”s.

Thank you for showing up, signing, donating, listening, clicking, pasting, holding, lifting, inviting, speaking, sitting, teaching -  even though you could have been doing something else instead.

Thank you for holding my hand, kissing my forehead, bringing me chocolate ice cream and texting me jokes to brighten my day.

If I don’t say this enough or if I haven’t said it yet – I appreciate you and all that you do. You all make such a difference in my life, you all have a special place in my heart.

Don’t you dare listen to the people who say love cannot make the world go ‘round. There is such power in this 4-letter, monosyllabic word.

Love is the gentle nudge behind everything I do, everything I believe I can accomplish and everything I strive for.

Pay It Forward

April 29th is Pay it Forward Day – I love the idea behind this. I think it is great that the notion of doing good and passing on the good is being advertised. But I don’t think you need a facebook event to tell you it’s a good idea, and you don’t necessarily need a specified day to do it. So make everyday ‘pay it forward day’. One of my professors told this story in a lecture a few weeks ago – it really got me thinking about the simple things we do in life. I often wonder about the impact, or lack thereof sometimes, of my own everyday actions. I like to think that I do ‘good’ and that the good spreads in whispering circular movements, soft ripples through the world – my [urm…] poetic moment of the day :p

Just wanted to share the story – don’t ever forget that a simple gesture can have the greatest effect on a person, and similarly, a slight hint of malice can have the opposite effect. We can each do something to pay it forward no matter how big or small the gesture --- I promise it will make a difference.

…

“One day when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “why would anyone bring all his books home on Friday? He must really be a nerd.” I had quite a weekend planned – parties, a football game with friends – so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running towards him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms, and tripping him, so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying – I saw them land in the grass about 10 feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him, so I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses. I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him the glasses, I said “those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “hey thanks.” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books and I asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I’d never seen him before. He said he’d gone to a private school before now. I would never have hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends, and he said “yes”. We hung out all weekend, and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle, with the huge stack of books again. I stopped and said, “damn, boy you’re going to really build some serious muslc with that pile of books everyday.” He just laughed, and handed me half the pile.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends and that miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going into business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak! On graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys who really found himself during high school. He’d filled out, actually looked god in glasses; he had more dates than me, and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I smacked him on the back and said, “hey big guy, you’ll be great.” He looked at me with one of those looks – the really grateful ones – and smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He started his speech, cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years: your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach. But mostly, your friends. I’m here to tell you a story.” I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked about how he had cleaned out his locker so hs mom wouldn’t have to do it later, and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me, gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.” I heard the gasp go through the crown as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad look at me and smiling that grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its’ depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person’s life.”

If I got held up - I'd want Jackie Chan to be there, or Shahrukh...whichever

Who exactly are we catering to? When you become a police officer - you agree to fight the good fight, to put yourself in harm's way and protect citizens, right? In the same way that the troops fighting wars oversears understnad the risks associated with their jobs ...so here's my issue with the police. By all means, do your thing...but please put the tasers away? Maybe? Pretty please? I don't know...

So okay, here's the thing. Recently I've been hearing a lot about the police and the funny shenanigans they pull...and I’ve come to the conclusion that there are way too many rules in place that help keep the cops safe, and not nearly as many that keep the citizens safe [very possible from the cops themselves]. I understand that it is harder to deal with criminals and disgruntled and disorderly men and women in the streets these days – but seriously guys, where is the line?

Before I continue rambling, for anyone reading this – this is my own opinion…I could be wrong, I could be misinformed. Please correct me if I am wrong… ok. So I’ve taken care of the whole opinion ownership thing …lol…

I was watching a news report about a man who died after being stabbed (I believe) – he had to walk a block away from his house, while he was bleeding, to get to the ambulance. Why? Well, apparently, when the 911 call was made there was mention of a gun (not too sure about this, I think it was speculative at the time of the report). And when a gun is mentioned, the cops and ambulance can park FAR away from the house in question, wait for the police to assess and handle the situation. Ok, that’s cool…save yourselves. But let’s assume there was a gun involved, and the man was shot. Would you want a man, who is most likely bleeding profusely to walk a block to help save himself? Nooooooo. Bring him a freaken gurney! And seriously…ok there might have been a gun involved. The cops should have been front and center – put on a vest, use those tactical, bullet-averting skills they teach you at the police academy and maybe try to “serve and protect” a man in need of assistance??? In this case, once the situation inside the house was assessed (no gun) the ambulance still couldn’t drive up close enough …why? There were fire trucks and police vehicles blocking the way. You’ve got to be kidding me??? And not ONE of them brought the man out of his house on a stretcher…nope. But thank fully they did ‘walk him to the ambulance’.

Okay, so on to the next thing – taser guns. Really? I thought they only used things like that on angry bears in the woods?!?!! Yeah, it’s not as deadly a weapon as a gun (tell that to Robert Dziekanski’s family) so I guess I understand it…but what’s next? Using tranquilizer guns – I hear they can shoot from upto 10 feet away…maybe they can modify them to make the range 1 block away? Ooooh!! Ooooh! Maybe they can just dip the end of an arrow in curare (poison used by natives to kill animals, also used as anesthesia in ect :p) – Archery refresher courses for the cops yaaay! :-)

I am not saying I would like to see the police get hurt, I’m not saying that at all. But what happened to the good old days, when a man could be restrained with handcuffs, not high voltage? If I’m in the middle of the street and a guy comes at me with a gun I want to be sure that the cop walking down the street will do something… not hide behind a garbage can until the man gets bored of me and drops his gun….I’ve seen them do it in Jackie Chan movies – you can get someone out of that situation and nope, I don’t think I ever saw them use a taser gun…just a few strategically aimed hits and kicks. Hell, let’s get some bollywood actors over here to teach them a move or two. C’mon – you’ve seen it! One man vs. 10 bad guys…he always manages to get out alive and the bad guys are rolling around in pain on the floor. His weapon of choice? A stick.

But in all seriousness, what happened to the good old days when the police were these buff men and women who could run faster than the bad guys, and could restrain them if need be? Yes, they knew how to shoot a gun, but they also knew how to disarm a criminal and had the sense to grab a gurnery from the far-away ambulance and carry a bleeding man from his home to the ambulance. Sadly, the man I’m talking about (44 year old Garth Isfeld) died in hospital. Not sure why – but needless to say, the family is less than happy about the events that took place after he was injured.

Thoughts?

A Double Dose

Dear Mr. Sandman,

Another night of broken sleep. I have no problem getting a few hours here and there; I can deal with sleep deprivation. But it’s broken sleep – the kind that just burns my rubber wheels! Mr. Sandman why are you teasing me so? You visit, stay for a while, then sneak off to go see my neighbour… I’m a light sleeper, I heard you hop away…and then I couldn’t fall asleep again.

And please Mr. Sandman can you tell me why you left me that little terrorist gift? Those nightmares that I wish were meant for someone else…the ones that haunt me because they are so damn reflective of my inner-most fears and worries? What did I ever do to you Mr. Sandman? Can you please call me so we can talk about this apparent mis-communication? I think you must have me mistaken for someone else who so clearly angered you. And if I have done something that disturbed you – please accept my apology, whatever I did, I did it unknowingly, it was unintentional, I am sorry.

I can make it up to you…but please swing by tonight... or even this afternoon around 2-ish and sprinkle some of your brute, manly, Old Spice-like fairy dust on me so I can catch a Z or two.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Yours truly,

Sleepy NailZzzz

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So I’ve been trying to put together a coherent thought. I have many, but I can’t seem to come full circle with any of them. The past week has been full of questions, some upsetting answers, but for the most part, just questions. And because of who I am, incapable of lying to myself, I will admit: most are unanswerable questions. I will forever stew in my puddle of muck-y CSF (cerebro-spinal fluid – I know it doesn’t work, it just sounded right). The questions will swim around in my mind until I finally decide that I’ve had enough and I will do one of two things. Either push them far far away into the depths of my mental Never Never Land or I can come to terms with the fact that I will never have the answers I crave. These will forever remain the “unanswerable questions of life”. My unanswerable questions will join the likes of other famous questions like Why are there instructions on shampoo bottles? Wet, lather, rinse, repeat if desired. Are we really that dense a civilization that we need to be reminded every morning? Gosh!

Stop talk, talk, talking that blah, blah, blah

Lately this girl-power, sexually-explicit (but underhandedly-so) music has become very attractive to me. It’s refreshing to hear such vulgar, but so intelligently hidden lyrics coming from women. It isn’t as surprising to hear it from rappers and the likes of other male artists – they do it all the time. But when it comes from a woman, it’s scandalous. I think it’s revolutionary. Ok, I am a feminist, and no I do not support the objectification of human beings (male or female). But like many women out there, I can appreciate a good-looking guy.

Anyways, the point being, though I don’t necessarily support the tit-for-tat (if men can do it, why shouldn’t women?), at the same time I feel kind of proud that at least these women Can. Yes, doing it comes with a stigma not usually attached to men who produced music that is just as racy, but that’s to be expected. I’m conflicted though, because I don’t always support the lyrics; I don’t think anyone should be spoken about as though they are objects, or pieces of meat. But in all honesty, at the same time, I am almost proud of these women.

But to go back to something I mentioned before…the messages are so well hidden sometimes. These women don’t have to swear as much, or use slang words (in reference to anatomy) as much as I’ve heard in some male renditions of this type of music. Rather, they euphemize a little bit and use terms such as disco stick and glove box. But then, here’s a problem with that. A while back I read a post on MLID, where a south-east asian mother was at a dandiya (type of traditional folk dance) party and she referred to the dandiya (the wooden stick used) as a disco stick. Because the lyrics hide the intended meaning so well, it might be hard for many people to catch on. This makes me wonder whether or not the parents of that 8 year old girl from Brazil knew that the woman (Lady Gaga) they trained their daughter to emulate was actually singing songs with ‘adult’ content. Perhaps, a lack of understanding led to their grave misjudgment in letting their daughter dress up as and sing songs by the famous Lady Gaga? Or perhaps they just don’t listen to the lyrics --- there are loads of people who just listen to music to listen, without listening to the words. Personally, I don’t get it. I listen to music because of the words…though some songs just have nice melodies/beats … but for the most part, I enjoy songs where the lyrics mean something. the songs don’t always have to have a great meaning (take the music I am referring to for example), but it’s nice to listen to advice or a story in a song… which is why I love love love Sufjan Stevens.

*Thought for the day: is it a sign that times are changing when women can be as explicit in public as men, without getting as much (or any) flak for it? And…by doing so, are we adopting an eye for an eye mentality – because objectification is wrong no matter what sex is doing it, right?

*Just a note: the song the little girl sang was Bad Romance, the lyrics are not as bad as the ones I am talking about here…but had you seen her “dancing” and crawling (yes, crawling) on the floor…in That outfit you would have done one of two things: thrown up or called child services…or both. Forget application processes for parents who want to adopt children – there should be a rigorous screening process for anyone who wants to procreate! Jeezzz!