Self-Conscious Cactus

You don't want this.

They tell me with a relaxed grin that they envy my diligence regarding schoolwork.

I slowly blink in response but fail to communicate that I in turn, envy their smile.

Brightly Lit Spruce Trees

You acknowledge Jesus Christ and Santa over the holiday season, but what about those pagan tree gods you unintentionally recognize by decorating and lighting up that strong-smelling tree in your living room?

That's right, you lecherous heathens. Decorating a Christmas tree has nothing to do with Christ and it didn't originate with Jolly ol' Saint Nick either.

Daily Reminder

Thunderstruck.

Since I've started to develop my own, personal spiritual mindset I've incorporated aspects of other religions because even though I believe in Christ Jesus and God, I've always felt there was more to it than that. Today I got an English translation of the Bhagavad-Gita out of the library. It's an important piece of Hindu scripture. I've always been interested in Hinduism, so even though it's not "required", it's a "recommended" read because of it's importance in the religion.

I'm a hundred pages into it. Tonight, I came across a passage that was extremely powerful. In all honesty, it makes me want to research Hinduism very thoroughly. This may be exactly what I've been looking for to fill that aching void inside of me. Am I considering conversion to Hinduism? Let's say I'm seriously going to look into it.

I highlighted the portion that made an incredible impression on me.

Where is the Disdainful Snow?

Through the hollow shades a confused wind stirred into the warm room. Sheets of plastic clapped together and a poster loudly ruffled on the wall. It was late November and the thermometer outside read 5º Celsius. The trees, streets, and rooftops sat barren; there was no snow to captivate and motivate people to heave shovels and create snowmen. The season was in hiatus. It fell somewhere between fall and winter, but it failed to decide on either. It was a weakened state... seemingly steadfast and durable, but underlying that gentle breeze sat the uneasy stomach of global warming. It would vomit millions of tons of seawater onto shorelines, so much that it would swallow cities and never recede. Drought would pollute Saskatchewan and winnow the vegetation we have into a palate of biting sand and wind. The cruel, -20º winds filled with shards of icy flakes would be welcome at this time of year. A swamp of snowdrifts that children charge through in militant-fashion would be eagerly accepted. Not by the majority, no but by me, yes. The skies should be darkened by pregnant cloud, hanging deep with plump clusters of snowflakes. Large, cumbersome machines should be leisurely casting waves of sand across the snow-ridden roads, and cars should be mashing the snow and sand into a murky mixture.

It shouldn't be like this. I look outside to the clear skies and above 0º weather and feel a twist in my stomach. I'm actually disgusted by it. This is not what a Saskatoon winter should be like late into November...

With These Hands,

I make culture.

Malevolent Insects

So junebug. What did you do; smush May?
Bastard-beetle.

Sinful Cravings

Pomegranate on the bough,
Plump, red and hot in the sun;
Seeds full of flavor, crimson
Blood-red hope instilled!
Arteries of pebbled skin
Between bulb-shaped seeds,
I desire the delicious core.
Cutting through the skin,
Cartilege-textured kernels;
I feel like a surgeon slicing
With a bone-saw, cracking
A skelenton-hard structure with
A velvet-soft epidermis.
Beet-red juice, tart
Dry, sweet juice.

I'm passionate about pomegranates.

Dedicated (to the teeth)

Accurate tally of solid hours spent on two-week painting project: 20 hours.

Break down;
Wednesday November 2nd: 4 hours.
Wednesday November 9th: 6 hours.
Monday November 14th: 10 hours.

Arwen Belongs Nowhere

I stirred apathetically in the morning. Bad dreams permeated my sleep last night. The night needed to end. When it did, I rose without feeling. I looked outside to see the snow and warmth developed in my heart. The snow looked lively, delicate, and sweet. It winked at me from the yellow-light cast from the window. Despite my dreams, despite everything, I anticipate today.

I'm a transient organism. No one takes me seriously or treats me with humane respect. But I don't blame them because I deserve the treatment. When you aren't a permanent member of a certain society, why would anyone attach themselves to you? When you exist the way I do, why would anyone choose you?

The snow exists as I do. It's transient. The grass and trees remain below it but the snow will eventually sift away. As will I.

I <3 Sociology

While reading the textbook today, I came across an experiment by sociologist Dr. Stanley Milgram (1963, 1965). Don't stop reading! This is interesting!

Milgram asked random people to preform an experiment. He told them they would be participating in an experiment on punishment and learning. He set up a "learners" chair and a "teachers" chair in a laboratory. The teacher had a dial in front of them that controlled how many volts went through to the learner's chair. The learner would be strapped in and asked a series of questions by the teacher, if the learner answered incorrectly the teacher would shock them. For every incorrect answer, the dial was supposed to be turned up.

It was staged. The people in the learner's chair didn't actually get shocked, but they acted as if they did. The people under experiment were the "teachers". Some learners reacted by yelling in pain as the dial was turned up more. Some didn't verbally respond, but all reacted with some form of discomfort. In many cases the teacher would ask for them to end the experiment, but the authority (scientist, white coat, guy) would say no. Not in a violent way, a simple "No." That was disturbingly enough for most people to continue the experiment even until the dial was turned to the most extreme of shocks which read on the dial as 'Danger: Severe Shock".

In a few ways you could consider the experiment immoral, but what disturbed me most was what this said about our society. We expect authority to tell us what is right. Police officers, government officials, parents, even peers; anyone and everyone who asserts some amount of control on our lives. The sociologists aim was to see how people would react to being told to continue doing something even if they found it immoral and inhumane (especially in regards to how the Nazis treated the Jews during WWII). In almost all cases, no matter who this person was, the "teacher" would continue shock treatment, even though it was just an experiment and that within their understanding it was harming another human being.

This experiment was preformed forty years ago. Not in Hitler's day. It's frightening to understand how even when we turn into independant adults, we still feel obligated to accept the immoral and inhumane things authority asks of us. When we were children, it was because it wasn't within our realm of control to say 'no', and we were considered to be bad kids if we did say 'no'. But when you're an adult, you have the right to speak against things that you feel are wrong. Even though people recognize that fact when they look at it from a third person's perspective, that experiment proved that when we're IN that situation, things are much different.

Our laws are put in place for a reason. Social order. We are allowed rights but we also understand restrictions are in place for a reason. Does that still make authority absolute? Are we so affected by authority that we can't follow through with our objections to inhumane treatment?

I can understand why people continue to turn up the dial. That's what makes it so hard to swallow.

PS check your e-mail inboxes. I changed my address.

Unattainability

Why are people attracted to what they can't have? Is it solely because they can't have it? The prospect of the unattainable person? What is so desirable about someone you can never have?

It's hard for me to understand. Back in the day, I had crushes on people that were "out of my league" so to speak, but I never considered them "unattainable". I just didn't TRY. I didn't NEED love. I didn't crave or desire to have it, so I didn't strive for anyone. It's natural to like someone because they're good looking. Even though I felt an affinity towards someone, or took a particular liking, I never liked them for their unattainability. I liked them because of how they looked and how we had similar interests, etc.

People talk about liking teachers/professors, actors/actresses, someone in a different social circle, someone in a different age-group, and one of the characteristics I've heard commonly among the descriptions of these such people is how wonderful they are because they can't be had.

Maybe it's because I don't feel like I need something that I don't already have. Or that I just don't care enough. Either way, the idea of it perplexes me. Can someone astutely inform me as to what's so desirable about the unattainable person?

Just stating "it's because I can't have them" doesn't explain it enough for me. I want to know why someone you can't ever have would be remotely desirable.

PWNED to the nth °

ESSAY YOU ARE SO PWNED.

MY NAME IS DOUG... FUCK.

Pure Frost

The celestial fly, curbs
ice-rimmed branches;
A stark contrast between,
the palor silver frost.
The stiff grass
gently crumples,
leaving imprints
from heavily-laid feet.
It is silent.
Until a soft hum
Increases to a blaring whir.
Something black, in stark contrast,
Hisses through the air. Cooly,
sweet, soft, small celestial fly...
dropping through the fog-hung sky,
No wind to guide it either way.
From a window, a bright-eyed boy
Places a sweating hand onto the glass.
Warm, rose-colored, his fingers meld
with the surface. He watches the opaque
object. Cooly, swiftly falling. No one else
looks. They know. But they are silently
turned aside. Falling, falling, falling...
silence, silent, quiet.
Explosion.
Black frost,
Howling.

68.75%

We round up with such a number. I'm done 69% of my World Religions essay. You know what this calls for? Nothing less than a s-c-a-n-d-a-l-o-u-s poem. Wink wink.

Title: Art is Sexy.

Choreographed grins,
Paint-smattered skins,
Cheerful! Yellow!
Blue, pink, orange
They decorate my eyelids,
With their playful palate.
They plaster my laughter,
With oily, ebony black.
I cackle.
"Maniacal!" They cry,
But I see gladness in
Their hearts, which are bare
& Their teeth that are naked.
They chastise my innocence,
With obscene brushstrokes.
I'm glad,
By God;
They stole,
My painterly
V I r g I n I t y.