I never heard that before

I had a conversation with a boy tonight that was so outlandish, to quote my father out-law "I ain't believin' it!"

There is a gentleman in Virginia Beach about to finish a book detailing Satanic activity in the world today. The book in question will describe specific Satanic acts as if satan is a person who walks among us. As if god and other fallen angels (Greek Gods for example) exist as physical beings. As if heaven is actually a place in the clouds. As if evolution is a false thing. As if all of the world's religions are creations supremely spun by marketing geniuses with evil agendas and other "everything you know is wrong" things as well.

What he described was the Ultimate Conspiracy Theory. In between stifling the laughter I actually agreed with maybe one or two things he said. But it was all so beyond twisted, I can't stop smiling, or laughing even. I sat there for almost two hours listening to this diatribe and even looking at pictures on his Blackberry of Hurley t-shirts with demonic messages no one would ever think to see…but he did.

And he swears the people who designed the shirts did so with a devilish plan in mind…nothing short of Revelations-style activity.

I asked him if he believed in reincarnation. Of course he does not.

I asked him what he thought of the yin yang thing. "It's a false construct designed to pacify the masses."

At that point I just shut up and let him keep talking. The laughter on my part was thinly disguised by the raised-eyebrows-wide-eyed-smile...meaning "oh my god, you just said that out loud," but he was so literally hell bent on his message that he physically could not stop talking. I don't think I've ever encountered a boy who talked that much.

Why did I spend this kind of time on that kind of lecture you might ask? It was fucking fascinating. And insanely hilarious. And he was all muscle-y and and kinda cute. I usually don't talk to those kinds of boys and now I really know why...because they are ridiculous.

Whew…the best of the night's adventures…

Boys

I often forget how shy boys can be. From a girl's point of view, you guys have so much perceived power. You are supposed to earn it individually but even if you don't, this is a societal construct and we as girls are just as guilty of giving in to it as you are.

When you don't talk, we think you know something we don't know. We usually don't even consider the fact that you are probably scared witless to make a move 'cause you don't know how. From here, it doesn't look like you're scared...you just seem mysterious. Then we end up doing the chasing and look incredibly stupid in the process.

We completely forget how much power we have. Such a shame.

I resolve to not forget why I love boys so much. They are goofy and sweet and one hundred percent pliable if you know what you're dealing with.

The only reason I say boys instead of men and girls instead of women is that nobody changes that much after high school. On the inside, you are now who you were then. We all still feel like we're 16. It's just that homework and being popular look completely different later.

No agenda, just thinking out loud

To explain the Pod Person remark from my last entry to people other than Kenny: a Pod Person is someone who used to be completely normal and trustworthy, but who has (since you last saw or spoke with them) been snatched up by the "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" folks and now subscribes to another way more secret and evil agenda. A Pod Person will sacrifice and/or kill you to win their particularly opinionated argument. Much like the charming people who encourage you to join their cult or those crazy fuckers from "The Devil's Advocate" with their secretly twisted smiles.

It's a frightening thing to meet Pod People. For example, I think if I ever met someone from PETA, in order to be classically Southern-girl kinds of polite, it would take every ounce of my physical ability not to run screaming in terror in the opposite direction. Maybe when you meet a PETA person, defending yourself should become the priority and polite should just go out the window regardless. In terrifying imaginations, I sometimes expect that they would defy their own objectives and become cannibals out of pure spite.

Recognizing a Pod Person is not rocket science. When you speak freely in a Pod Person environment, you know immediately that you have crossed into enemy territory. They have a certain look, not unlike the Terminator, that they give you and you suddenly realize you are a target. After that, no matter how you try to conform to survive, your ultimate destruction is eminent. From personal experience I can tell you, in charitable terms, that this is a supremely uncomfortable feeling.

What's more uncomfortable is when you realize you have been trying to get people to subscribe to your own personal agenda, which may not have been the healthiest opportunity either. When you realize, "Hey, I've been all kinds of crazy out loud lately and recruiting people along the way…I don't know if I've been saying the right thing, but they bought into it anyway…maybe I should have used my powers for Good…damn."

I'm far too persuasive for my own good. Yet another reason why I should never be on a jury again and, morals be damned, maybe I should have become a lawyer instead.

Remembering

My friends in high school and I used to ask each other if we were crazy. It wasn't in a "How cool am I?!" way while crushing beer cans on foreheads or anything, but more in an, "Am I completely insane?" way either before or after watching some David Lynch movie or "The Shining" (which still haven't fully forgiven them for tricking me into).

Our answer to each other always was, "If you have the presence of mind to consider the question, the answer is probably 'no,'" or something similarly articulated at the time. There were a few of us who probably would have been flagged as potential school-shooters if we lived as teenagers in the world today. I mean, we wore black on purpose…who wouldn't flag that now?

Even now, despite my Democratic, charity-loving sensibilities, I personally hate both Ritalin and the entire "politically correct" movement for the current plight of misunderstood teenagers in America.

This has only vague things to do with what I meant to write about. I was wondering today if I was a Pod Person.

With all my recent free time, I did yard work today like a Mexican on crack and had a moment. It was very therapeutic which means, "not entirely welcome at the time, but ultimately very helpful." Kind of like the moment when you see a picture of yourself and you realize you're much less cute in reality than you thought you were at the particular moment the picture was taken. I imagine those poor idiots in the "Girls Gone Wild" videos have felt this too.

I have been kind of a hypocrite for an unexplained period of time and feel weird about that now that I realize it.

When I was 12 and my father said, "The things you don't like most about other people are really the things you don't like about yourself," I thought I got it. But you go through those periods of self righteousness and you forget that sometimes…at least I know I do.

Today I heard it again from the inside. Tough stuff Dad.

Thank you.

Accidental beach thinking

Has anyone else seen Generation Kill on HBO? I watched the first episode twice this week. First for my own edification then again to share with friends.

See, my best friend's brother is a Marine in Iraq at this moment and while I wanted to watch just 'cause I like boy stuff like that sometimes, after spending a weekend with her and her candle in the window for his safe return, watching meant something different for me than I expected it would when I first saw the promos.

I have a long lost friend who is somewhere over there now and given what I understand of his skill and ability is no doubt doing important work that I will never be allowed to know about in full. As it should be.

I sat on the beach today and waved to military helicopters as they flew over doing drills.

The whole time, all I could think was, "thank you."

Bouncing out loud

So, the dark cloud looming over me at the moment is: I got fired for the first time ever last week. The objection in question pretty much came down to my personality. I've had plenty of people not like me during my life, but never has my personality gotten me fired before.

Maybe I just expected that the 4 out of 5 dentists would weigh more heavily than that one guy who's holding out. Apparently, not so much.

I hope you understand the broad scope of this summation of events: I can't keep quiet in church...and given the option...I'd rather not.

They love me anyway, there may be an audience for my particular opinion, letters of recommendation to follow, "it's not you; it's me."

It was almost the weakest break-up I have ever experienced.

I'm not saying I am impenetrable enough not to have cried since, but I for (expletive deleted) certain didn't cry about that, I've got enough else going on. Thankfully I bounce when I fall. This rant not withstanding, let's just call it even.

In incessantly "glass is half full" news: I stopped by a bookstore today and picked up Chelsea Handler's book "Are you there, Vodka? It's me Chelsea." by 4 o'clock I had read it in its entirety. I've been meaning to read "My Horizontal Life" forever, but this was available today and I needed some immediate Chelsea.

If I hadn't just gotten a bikini wax, I would have taken it to the beach and looked like a jackass in a beach chair laughing out loud while reading it. However, as anyone who has ever had a bikini wax might expect, you need some time for that situation to settle down, so I was content today with reading on the deck and taking intermittent breaks for housecleaning and other nonsense. Tomorrow however, I will rule my particular world and own the beach with friend Dana and other entourage in tow.

The day after that I get to sit in on The Mike and Bob Show on 96X, or as I should perhaps refer to this time from here on as: my key out of the asylum. So, tune in Friday between 2 and 6 and you might get to hear me out loud for a minute or two.

Embracing the consequences

To sort of quote myself (which is weird), "I chose this. Everything happens for a reason. What the fuck am I supposed be learning from it?"

Ultimately I know I am responsible for my current fate.

Ultimately this will be a good thing.

Currently, I don't know what will happen next. I just don't. Breathing deeply helps, but I am still clueless like crazy.

I know (in a supremely Stuart Smalley way) that I am good enough, smart enough and doggone it, people like me. So something good will probably happen.

And my favorite psychic once told me that, "If people can learn to communicate with you, they will do much better for themselves."

Does this mean that the people who can't learn to communicate with me will do much worse for themselves?

What if I kind of hope so?

Comedy and other unforgiving plans

I watched the Vince Vaughn Wild West Comedy Show tonight. Decided not to succumb to the ordinarily regular Reality TV and choose the OnDemand kind instead, 'cause, you know, that's better. And I was right.

I laughed out loud. I recommend watching it. I wish I could spend 30 days on the tour bus with those guys. I wish I had that kind of free time. And I also kind of wish I could make it as a stand-up comic.

Of course the definitive answer to the stand-up idea is "no." My talents are, from here on. relegated to entertaining family and friends with my sarcastic, observational humor. They laugh, I laugh; it's all good.

'Twas ever thus.

Why on god's green planet do I watch reality TV?

I swear to god, between the stupid asallgetout Bachelorette and Legally Blonde, I have officially turned into an idiot. To my indistinct credit, I only watch these shows randomly when there's abso-godbless-lutely nothing else on TV…but to my ultimate demise…I watch them anyway. Grrr to me for that. Just waiting for Psych and Heroes to take away the sting.

Am I a sucker for pop culture or what?

This how much of a loser I am: I knew she would pick Jesse, but the fact that Rhiannon didn't go home was a total shocker, I may have accidentally gotten chills. So much for higher thinking. I advise you to take all this Perception/Reality and whatever else I philosophically blog about with a big fat grain of salt because clearly I am unhinged.

In real-people news: I went out riding bikes on the boardwalk with my sister yesterday which was so much fun and I felt at least 10 years younger than I am (being with her almost always makes me feel that way)…but in order to do that, I blew off another sister and am reaping those repercussions. Choices.

My friend Dana Monday-morning-quarterbacked in favor of the bikes. Whew. And I hope my hopefully future brother-in-law knows that I still love him even though he hit his ten o'clock temper tantrum a couple hours early.

So, other than tomorrow being "trash and recycling day," I don't know what's coming next. Suffice it to say, whatever comes, I will endure it with both steely reserve and a bright-white smile that rivals the Great Wall of China or the Luxor spotlight in the category of "things on Earth you can see from Space."

Perception v. Reality

Okay, I don't know how this will spin out so I preemptively ask you to excuse some of the mental meandering.

A Classical Studies major friend in college said about Greek mythology once, "It doesn't matter if the myths were actually true, what was most important was that the Greeks believed them to be true."

That was pretty powerful for me to hear at the tender age of 19.

Perception and Reality are both rarely the same thing, and always the same thing. Perception is completely subjective and individual. Yet, to each individual, his or her particular perspective feels like rock-solid fact.

We've all seen those sitcom episodes where everyone tells "their version of the story." They do that wiggly screen thing as the characters retreat to their account of events leading up to whatever crisis is at hand. It's their personal version of the truth. It has only certain things in common with an utterly unforgiving, literal description of the timeline and dialogue that actually occurred.

So, what does this mean? It means that the line from "The Princess Bride": "You keep saying that word, but I do not think it means what you think it means," is completely accurate.

To quote a high school friend (who may have been quoting someone else), "You see blue and I see blue, but do we see the same color?"

So, for you: are you a: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," person? Or are you the, "If life is a bowl of cherries, why do I always get the pits," guy? Does it just depend on the day?

I believe you pretty much create your own reality. I mean look at all the people born into awful situations who manage to survive and even succeed despite all perceived obstacles. Those are lemonade people like crazy. They perceive the world to be a good place and themselves worthy of a position in such a place. They work hard as can be to get there. That is huge.

Taking responsibility for your feelings and your life is a big fucking deal. The minutiae of life is a remarkable obstacle that can drag you under if you let it. If you let go and swim with the current, it can be totally worth it, but if you keep making the same mistakes over again, it's like you're fighting an undertow. Anyone who lives near the ocean knows the undertow will usually win.

My personal perception is a bit all over the place at the moment. I have always thought of myself as a glass is half full, people are basically good, make lemonade person. Yet, thanks to my mother and all her words of wisdom I've had a well of "whatever" on which to draw, and anyone who has ever spent more than 15 minutes with me would wisely use the word "sarcastic" to describe my personality. Some people say "smart-ass." They're not wrong either.

Recent months have found me plumbing the depths of abject cynicism and my sarcastic, smart-ass side has bubbled to the surface quite often. This has been remarkably weird since I'm still the super-happy front man for non-profit fundraising in town. Crossing the streams in the strangest way.

This is probably why I embrace the yin yang thing so wholeheartedly at the current time.

I thought this blog would be easier to write, but have spent days thinking and have come up with more open-ended questions than answers. Perhaps as it should be.

To sum up: These lives of ours are all muffins of our own design.

Intent

As much as I would love to believe in feng shui I think it's more about intent than anything else.

I admit it. I've watched The Secret. I watched the more in depth version of this... "What the Bleep" with physics and commentary and a loose plotline throughout nearly a year before but that was too intellectual, I think, to connect with the masses.

Either one, I get it. It's not like it's something I never thought of before. What they put out there were basically truths which I believe to be self evident, but packaged in a "get out the popcorn, this is gonna be good," kind of way...maybe I bought into it for a trendier little moment at the time.

However, if you shake off the spin...it's all still true. The power of intent I mean. Seriously, even when Christians "give it to god" despite my objections to the pedestrian applications of such...that's not nothing.

What that means for me is that all this feng shui bullshit in which I am currently believing is more powered by my own perspective than anything else. Not that that's a bad thing...it's just a thing. A thing that I intend to examine to my own exactimation.

Stay tuned for Perception v. Reality.