Risk, part 2...

If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more. ~Erica Jung, 1942-

Yup, still chewing on this quote. Albeit, there’s a certain sinew about it that is unpalatable and gristly, bland and chewy, I’m not willing to spit out the leathery wad just yet. Nope. I’m looking for the perfect condiment to accompany it, seasoning it with everything I can think of to make it agreeable to the taste buds. I’ve even tenderizing the gristle with a metal meat mallet to help get it down. I’ll force it down, and if all else fails, I’ll take it to the meat market and have my butcher grind it to a pulp … dammit.

I’m stuck in a rut of caution where playing it safe has provided little enjoyment. When it comes to floating in the boat of life, it’s sad to consider what all I’ve risked to keep the boat from rocking. You see, I have been white water rafting all this time on a shallow placid pond.

Risk...

If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more. ~Erica Jung, 1942-

Love, acceptance and companionship. We all want it; we all need it. For many, the price to get it is affordable. For some, the price is a sacrifice too steep to make and are not willing to let down their defenses to have it mingle with the air they breathe. Then there are those who pay and pay and pay for its pleasure, but the buttons of contentment use it as blackmail for its selfish arrogance.

Just chewing on this quote and savoring the texture that is the fine line between everything meaning nothing, and nothing meaning everything.

chewing, chewing, chewing...

Perfect prose and journalism jargon...

Perfect prose and journalism jargon is something I don't have. Nothing profound of insightful either.

I'm dry as bone. Creatively, my mind is a barren wasteland. I have nothing but a box of rocks. A big bag of nuthin'. Nada Mucha...

For today, I'm just a word trolling toady looking for louisville butter scoop...

...who soooo needs to get back to writing on this blog!

Clarifying my quasi rant...

I want to clarify my previous ramblings regarding insults, f-bombs, and criticizing. Criticizing, specifically. After re-reading my original words, it struck me that it may be interpreted that I am accepting of criticism. Not true. (This goes without saying the many ways criticism can be positive; from cultural, political, societal, to specific critiques of art, movies, books, etc.) What I'm talking about is the use of the personal, unprovoked verbal assaults on individuals to cause an action or experience that boosts the criticizer's sense of importance … aka, the ego trip. I liken it to the lengths some will go to in the childhood playground game of King of the Hill, where dominating, clamoring, and muscling to the top of the heap of authority will get the respect of nobody but the one standing at the top and everyone else is left bruised and dirty.

What is this all about? What provoked my recent ramblings? I heard of somebody on the receiving end of the acidic half-digested verbal bile and it put me in a very bad place. You see, I've been the target of similar assaults more times than I care to admit. Unprovoked, unnecessary, and unwarranted. And I'm empathetic when I hear of another in this familiar situation. When people use childish tactics when they really should know better, well, I get really bothered.

Anyway, criticism can be an art form when it is rational and in accordance with reason and logic. That is the type of criticism that I admire. Put a twist on it that leaves the receiver okay with being criticized, not offended, bruised and dirty and shamed into submission because the alternative would be complete humiliation. That's not admirable; it's disrespectful, rude, and insipid.

I don't understand the logic of people pandering to individuals like this. To spew one's bile on a targeted individual seems to be so popular. Why do people flock to blogs like this? I suppose it's for the entertainment value, but personally, I find it heartbreaking to watch an individual targeted and bullied. It disgusts me. So little respect, and even less respect for the individuals who flock to blogs like this and participate. Give me sensibility and rationality with a twist of clever over the narcissistic egocentric and superciliousness any day!

A quasi rant...

The simple pleasures of life … being offered a glass of ice tea on a hot day … goes a long way with me. The niceties, the pleasantries and civilities aren't lost on me. As pleasant as these pleasantries are, I'm not naïve in thinking they are the be all end all of societies dilemmas. It sure makes the saccharine smiles of life easier to chew and digest though, wouldn't you agree?

This leads me to my observance in the way people criticize. Anyone can criticize and give off the cuff insults. Anyone. It's easy. There is no art to it, no challenge. What is crafty is when the flying insults are cleverly turned around and delivered with class. I'm not talking about the "giving it as right back at cha" kind of dirt dishing that smacks of ignorance. Nope. Those are a dime a dozen. I'm talking about the rational wordsmithing, the clearly thought out, intelligent kind of delivery accompanied by a glass of refreshing iced tea on a silver platter. You know … the kind of delivery that hosts a witticism that makes ya scratch your head and think, "is what happened what I think just happened?"

That is a skill. Something cultivated and honed. And, no, I'm not saying I have that skill. Not even remotely close! What I'm saying is that it's a shame that so many people think they're so far above the fray that they have some kind of elite privilege to criticize, freely, carte blanche.

It's a shame, I say!

Feelings and emotions are as uniquely personal as the person who feels them. Exhibiting self control over the ugly criticisms and resisting the urge to stand above another and beat the drum of "I'm better than you" may be less popular with the "it" crowd than wearing mom jeans to a night club. And, doling out the f-bombs and insults like a PEZ dispenser full of Chiclets leads to nowhere but self-indulgence for the egocentric person with low self-confidence.

Yeah, I have a low tolerance for the "I'm better than you" attitude, and don't have time for self-righteous and sanctimonious people. So little patience for idiots who use a cloak of sanctimony to cover their ignorance. Very little tolerance…

And these, my friends, are just my thoughts for the day…

Another test document...

Another test document. This will be deleted. Yes it will. I promise, k? What? Not soon enough, you say? Well tough shit.

I found my Obi-Wan. She is a mistress of knowledge and a maven of know-how. Going to her is the end all be all of all my blog issues. Yes she rocks, but what people don’t know is that she also rolls. She rocks the world, and rolls with the punches. Uh huh. Her {i} was stolen and, yet, she continues to salsa down the corridor of knowledge and coolness.

Next topic…

Who knew that a secret message to aliens could be disguised as a test document?

Who knew?

An excerpt from my formal Statement of Academic Intent that accompanied my graduate studies application. Why? Because this is a test document. So blehhh…

Throughout my life I have been most inspired when intellectually challenged. In 19--, while studying art history and architecture in Europe, I was heavily influenced by the culture, geography, and religion. It was inspiring to stand is a space occupied by geniuses and contemplate their contributions (for example, Brunelleschi’s Pazzi Chapel in Sta Croce, Florence, 1430; Michelangelo’s St. Peter’s, Rome, 1546). It is with this same inspiration that I make formal application for admission to the Masters of Arts program at the **University of Educational Consortium of Humanity and Understanding. My intended area of study is Art History with a further and additional emphasis in Museum Education.

**A ficticious university.

Okay, I’m done communicating with aliens now.

Test document and Blah...

This is a test document. Blah, Blah, Blah... This is a test document. Blah, Blah, Blah... This is a test document.
Blah, Blah, Blah... This is a test document. Blah, Blah, Blah... This is a test document. Blah, Blah, Blah... This is a test document. Blah, Blah, Blah...

Slowly but surely.

Like pulling teeth.

Turtles are quicker.

This entry will be deleted.

But not soon enough. Font = Times. Normal size text. <~~~Nope!

Font = Georgia. Normal size text. <~~~Yup!