Friday, August 27, 2004

Soda sucks!
At least that is what I tell myself. I have long been addicted to the junk and every year for lent (practicing lent is a harder habit to break than Catholicism) I would give up soda to test myself. Indeed, it was a test. I would also find loopholes, such as believing Sprite and 7Up aren’t really sodas (hahahaha) or drinking lots of sweet tea or even worse, coffee. I drink coffee about once every three months normally, but each time I got off soda, I craved the junk.


Well here is the weird thing…this time it just sort of happened. I have always been a big water drinker, but given the option, I’d drink an equal amount of soda. About a month ago I was sweating away at the gym and really felt like I accomplished something. Then I made the mistake of looking at the “calories burned” readout. Almost twenty minutes of full throttle sweaty exertion has earned me exactly 150 calories burned. 150 calories is exactly what is in a tiny can of Coke. So I made a deal with myself. Next time I have a Coke, I add 20 minutes to my workout. For some reason, my craving for Coke has lifted.


Take my advice and don’t ingest apple cider vinegar. I read up on it and it is supposedly one of the best things you can use as a natural healer. The only problem is it tastes like donkey sweat (I’m assuming here) and it burns going down. I tried a little this morning and three hours later I still want to throw up. Topically, It works great on dry scalps and other ailments, but I am convinced this substance should never be ingested, despite what well meaning old people might tell you.




Thursday, August 26, 2004

I’m not a real big fan of hypocrites. Dave Matthews Band is getting sued by the state of Illinois for dumping a bunch of sewer waste into a lake in Chicago. Classy act from a guy who “supports” so many environmental causes. He hasn’t come forward saying he nor the band knew what was going on. Honestly, did they think the bus driver was dumping 800 gallons of Yoo-Hoo out of the bus?
I am surrounded by hypocrites. Inevitably, when I get a real “tough customer” that is completely nasty to me, if I ever have to call them back for any reason and get their answering machine, 99% of the time (I would say 100% but nothing is ever that accurate) they will have a greeting with a Bible verse or at the very least they close with “have a blessed day.” As a wise Fugee once said” How you gon' win when you ain't right within? “ Last but not least on my mind today is the Republican Right. It is so ridiculous that John Kerry is being attacked for his service in Vietnam. At least he showed up for duty. How does W get away with these things? I saw a sticker today that said “How would Jesus vote?” Of course, they assumed Jesus would vote Republican. Interesting thought since their number one argument for that case is the stance on abortion. I’m not even going to light that fire, but sufficed to say God’s laws supersede man’s laws. If God is against abortion, than the legality of it is a moot point if you are a Christian, so where is the problem? I’m sure if one of the Bush twins got knocked up, they sure wouldn’t have that baby. Outlawing things you don’t agree with like abortion and homosexuality will not make them go away. Murder is illegal is it not? People kill every day regardless of the law. Jesus taught about love and maybe I missed the part of his sermon where he spoke about loving everyone as long as they are white, straight and protestant.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Isn’t it funny how you inherently know things sometimes? When I was a kid, I told everyone I knew that I was going to Auburn University to study to be a veterinarian. Of course I never did either, but my Mom swears I came up with both notions completely on my own and nobody seems to be able to pinpoint how I found Auburn or decided to be a veterinarian since I’m allergic to everything with fur, including Alec Baldwin.


As long as I can remember, Seattle has also been an inherent part of the person I am. I’ve wanted to live there in the worst way and finally took the last $300 on my credit card in 2000 and took a chance that Priceline could get me there on that amount. So one summer 4 years ago I made my first flight across country to Seattle. In my mind, it was this rainy oasis where people left you alone to your poetry, coffee, thoughts or whatever else filled your days. Little did I expect it would be both hot and sunny while I was there? Honestly the young people there were as pretentious and eager to impress each other in their dive bars reeking of cheap cologne as they are in my dear homeland of Florida.


The dream didn’t totally die on that trip. I think the fact I was left to my own devices most of the time made the trip most memorable. I was just discovering Modest Mouse and Seattle was the perfect backdrop. I walked across the bridge between Eastlake and Westlake 40 times in one week because my friend Jesse managed a pizza place. So if I wanted to eat on that trip, it was going to be Italian food and I was going to earn it. I walked more in that week than I probably did in a decade back home. It was my first big city experience and I was smitten. Not only did I not need to drive through rush hour traffic, but I could instead ride the Metro and milk the transfers for a full day of transportation. In my mind, that trip will always be remembered as leaning back on the bus and letting someone else worry about traffic while I ripped into the opening notes of “The Moon and Antarctica.”

A big part of my trip (and the final justification) was the fact that I was interviewing for a job in Seattle. I was even offered the job with a pay raise. Why didn’t I go? Aside from the crippling fear of moving to the other side of the country, I would also be leaving behind my Mom, Grandmas, two brothers, sister, their kids, my Dad and various aunts and uncles and cousins. I would say goodbye to friends that I’ve known since I was 16. I would be leaving behind everything I knew. At home, I finally got an on air job at a major radio station and loved it. These were all things I could have parted with. What I couldn’t do was find a feasible way to get to Seattle. I was broke as a joke and when the time came to decide, I had to stick with what I knew.


Little did I know over the next few year, friends and family would move away, I would get burnt out staying up all night doing radio and two of my Grandparents would pass away. So quite a few of the reasons I didn’t go ended up no longer being a factor. So in 2002, fresh off of a breakup, I ventured back to Seattle for a visit. This time, I seriously wanted to move. I wanted to escape the life I had in Florida. At the time it was just a carcass. I could move back in with my fiancée and try to ignore everything that was wrong with our relationship or I could have elected to keep crashing in my Mom’s spare room. For a 26 year old who is fiercely independent, neither was a viable option. So moving to Seattle loved pretty sweet yet again.

What I found when I got there was a very different city. I was discovering the White Stripes on this trip, so it might explain why I saw the white underbelly of Seattle. I was looking at it through a different lens. This time, I was older, fresh off a break up and living in a world were I was fired, bankrupt and had very little left to show for myself. Unfortunately, Seattle and I met up again at a bad time. This time I saw the worst of the bus passengers. I saw a drag queen get mugged and had to share a room with a very smelly ferret. My perfect image was falling apart. Not to mention I was in the very trendy Capitol Hill district where it seemed everyone was living on coffee alone (based on both their waistlines and the price of anything edible).


So it seems every two years I start longing for Seattle again. I don’t know if it was the rolling hills or the fact that everyone under 40 had really cool hair and a sense of style. Maybe it is the rock scene and the fact that Seattle was pretty well free of truck driving pro-Bush rednecks. If you did see a truck with a pro-Bush driver, it was probably a lesbian and the bush she was talking about never managed a baseball team or ran an economy into the ground.


Saturday, August 21, 2004

Is it just me or is this truly a sign the end is nigh?

Sadly, I expected more from Scott Baio, which puzzles and confuses me. Maybe he should pick up Bibleman and get to work on “Zapped 3” (yes, there was a second one already).


And the earth folded in on itself.



Friday, August 20, 2004

I came to a conclusion today. I’m not horribly disfigured or unattractive. I just make no effort to meet women and when I do, I really make no effort to pursue anything. It seems like that one area of my life just doesn’t really inspire me. I’d like to think it is some laid back “if it happens, it happens” attitude on my part, but I’m guessing it isn’t. I’m pretty oblivious in that department and basically every woman I have ever dated has pretty well had to hit me over the head to get my attention.


I think for about a grand total of 2 minutes I contemplated the possibility I might be gay. My brother likes to joke about it, the way older brothers tend to do and I have had a very clean, very cultured and very slim best friend for years, so I could see where the speculation might come from. He is decidedly not gay, nor am I. I’m not at all attracted to men. Sometimes I find Tom Cruise fascinating, but more in the way you look up to an older cooler kid in school who doesn’t take joy in kicking your ass. It’s a healthy admiration.


So the question remains…what the hell is wrong with me? I don’t have any issues achieving what I set out to do. I finished college, I got a job as a DJ, I got published in a magazine, and I’ve acted in plays and learned to play instruments. If I make up my mind to do something, I generally make it happen. Maybe not exactly as I envisioned, but I’m certainly not the classic definition of a looser. Maybe my problem is I see through all the BS.

Relationships are hard work and ultimately, once you get comfortable, they tend to turn into hell on earth. It might take a year, or a decade, but it happens. I think the divorce rate speaks for itself. Most of the great art, wars, inventions, songs and poetry where the result of some guy trying to win some girl’s heart. I guess if I just don’t care, then I’m probably not going to do a whole lot with my life. Luckily, I’m OK with that.


There are about 8 billion reasons I no longer consider myself Catholic and this is one of them.

The Catholic Church seems to have lost their copy of the Bible

Matt 15:1-3 "Then the scribes and Pharisees who were from Jerusalem came to Jesus, saying, "Why do Your disciples transgress the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat bread." He answered and said to them, "Why do you also transgress the commandment of God because of your tradition?"

I’m not trying to judge anywhere here, but it seems to me that a church built around Jesus would pay a little attention to what he had to say about the fundamentals of his time… the Pharisees. They were hung up on tradition and Jesus was none too pleased. I only write about my own personal beliefs when I am reminded how very moronic the modern “church” is. What would Jesus do? I’ll tell you what he wouldn’t do. First, he wouldn’t use people like the Pope and W as his mouth piece. Second, he wouldn’t doom the population of third world nations to an AIDS epidemic by telling his church condoms are bad. I also don’t think he would get hungup on unleavened bread. What do I know? I’m just some guy who went to the trouble of actually reading the Bible instead of nodding blindly at everything the president, pope or pastor says. To paraphrase Bon Jovi; “shock to the heart and you’re to blame, you give God a bad name.”



Wednesday, August 18, 2004

What a sad story. I think this hits home for those of us who used youth as an excuse to smoke.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Speaking of politics. If this whole swift boat issue is a bunch of lies, then why hasn’t Kerry come forward to deny the accusations? On the flip side, all the pundits say Michael Moore’s movie is a bunch of lies, but I have yet to see Bush say that publicly. It kind of makes you wonder why they don’t just come forward and deny these things. Perhaps there is true to them both.


It is in the mail tomorrow.



August 17, 2004
John Kerry
Kerry-Edwards 2004, Inc.
P.O. Box 34640
Washington, DC 20043




Dear Mr. Kerry,
How is the campaign trail treating you? I have been meaning to get up to the Boston area. I hear it is lovely in the fall. Unfortunately, I am a 20 something who is lucky enough to get vacation, but poor enough that I never get to go anywhere exciting. I know once you get into the White House, you’ll help folks like me out. Until then, I have some vacation time to burn before my fiscal year begins at work in November and I lose my days.

I’m sure you’re very busy right now, but I figured it never hurts to ask. I would like to visit Boston in October and I was wondering if you had a futon or pull out couch or even just an empty area in your living room where I could crash for a few days. I am quite serious and hope you can help me out.

I live in Florida and aside from snakes, hanging chads and hurricanes, Floridians are cursed with a high cost of living and a lower pay scale compared to most of the country. So when I vacation, I have to do it on the cheap.

Thank you in advance for your time and I look forward to your reply.

Cordially,
Jonathan ###


“I’ve been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding.”



I guess we’re going to be #1 at something else. In every other developed nation, there is a marked decline in projected population growth with one glaring exception…us. I’m not going to launch into some leftist diatribe about how we suck up so much and give back so little here in my homeland. I could explain how we put the “us” in U.S.A. Honestly, I don’t think it is the result of the rest of the world worrying about natural resources or doing their part to insure there will be enough to go round for everyone. Instead, it is more likely that in other countries having a bunch of kids means less food, room, clothes, etc for you as a parent. Here we find ways to circumvent these natural population controls. Combine that with good health care and you’ll see our numbers are swelling faster than our waistlines.


I’m certainly not going to advocated any type of rules about family sizes, because that should ultimately be up to us as individuals. I just have one request…that the stupid people stop breeding. I’m standing three feet from a jerk who is yelling at his kids right now as I type this. He is angry because his toddlers want to go to the bathroom. I thought using the potty was a good thing. It seems like the ignorant, impatient, unkind and just plain obnoxious are squeezing out kids at an alarming rate. This guy, for example, has three. Three is just too many. I’m sorry. Two is fine. One for you and one for your partner. One child is better since that’s negative population growth. Three is just selfish. You need a license to fish, a license to drive and a license to ill. Why then does anyone who can make a zygote have the right to make children?


If the majority were caring and loving human beings who made raising their kids a priority, then the next generation would be a blessing. Here’s a news flash for you. You may have enough food, square footage and money to raise a child. That doesn’t mean you should. While having kids may not take food off of your plate or force you to sleep on the floor, they will inconvenience you a thousand ways you never thought of. Maybe you should think about that next time you decide to give parenting a try. It is one decision that lasts a lifetime.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

The season of the dork is upon us. Nerd, geek, dweeb, what ever your pleasure is. There’s something about the Olympics that is a rally cry for those of us who are painfully uncool. I don’t suspect the jocks of the world sit around and watch the Olympics. It is almost as if the nerds have hijacked the holly grail of the jocks…their sports. At what other time does Bravo put aside the queer eye makeovers and James Lipton to broadcast athletes?

I don’t suspect we would be as amicable if the jocks suddenly took over Latin class and NPR. They seem to take it in stride and that is great. Football season is right around the corner, but until then I’ll get to enjoy watching sports for once and routing for a 5’3” athlete from New Zealand who throws her basketball like a girl, because quite frankly she is one, but she has the free throw and three point shot that Shaq would kill for. Who am I kidding? I have an outside game Shaq would kill for. I, of course, do not have my own video game, unless you count the ones I wrote in BASIC when I was in grade school. On the other hand, I’m not haunted by “Kazaam.”


I suppose my open embracing of my own nerdiness is the result of a unique weekend. It all kicked off when I was asked to wrap the computers at work, since I was the only one who could disassemble them. I was wrapping them so we could flee the office and the possible hurricane that was bearing down on us. So when work closed early I headed inland to my brother’s house. He has always been a unique character in my book because he is so very much in denial about his own nerdiness. He’ll hold a wide-eyed discourse about laying CAT 5 cable as the backbone for the network he built in his house. I swear his kids were born with PDAs. Yet he’ll quickly express a love for conservative politics and accuse his little brother of wearing “girlie jeans.” These cries for help make me want to take him to the next sci-fi convention and allow him to cut loose.

So Saturday was spent watching athletes do such nerdy pastimes as synchronized diving and gymnastics on TV with my brother. I’m sure these events happen every day in gymnasiums that no one ever speaks of, but they don’t happen on 5 channels with millions of viewers and with a captivated live audience. These are the dorks of sports. To end the day, I sat with my sister in the restaurant where her son, my nephew, works. We both tried to work out the deeper meaning of life over some less than healthy fried chicken. This former math club member and drama club historian sat across from a former cheerleader and we both decided neither of us was cool anymore judging from the way we managed to embarrass the teenager we came to visit. I sat there clinging to the twilight of my twenties and she stared down middle age. Time has a way of making us all uncool.

Today, between renting “Hellboy” and trying hard to score allergy medication from a rules conscious pharmacist, I managed to squeeze in a visit to the library to pick up my reserved copy of Sarah Vowell’s “The Partly Cloudy Patriot.” Many of the essays in her book hint at the very level of dork/geek/nerd that I have both embraced and denied over the years. Part of me wants to write this woman a letter professing my love to her. She gives a voice to those of us who have lived a life of being ridiculed for not being stupid. She is the pied piper of geek with a biting wit and a voice like a Muppet. She gives me hope that somewhere, out there, is some female counterpart who understands my quirks, sees the world from my very skewed perspective and might even have a taste for the beautiful parts of society that aren’t shrink wrapped and sold between episodes of “MTV’s Cribs.” The truth is we are probably both just socially inept enough and self-sustaining enough to ever lack the interest or energy to get my imagined romance off the ground. I figured, what is a more fitting ending to Geekfest ‘04 than to write a blog entry to share with some admiring bog all the livelong day?

“I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow”
~Elliott Smith


Friday, August 13, 2004

Panic on the streets of London panic on the streets of Birmingham I wonder to myself could life ever be sane again?


Here we sit waiting for Charlie. I keep thinking I’m in some movie about Vietnam with all this talk of Charlie. I hate to feed the panic, but I went to the store this morning and got the last of the bottled water. My guess is people get greedy and buy a bulk of the stuff anytime the word hurricane is dropped. I’m sure we’ll get something, but I don’t think the storm will end civilization as we know it. I do, however, think “Skirts the Coast” is an absolutely stellar name for an emo band. There it is in print and copy written. Don’t you little weepy horn rim wearing anorexic hipster bastards take it. OK, just give me a shout out in your Grammy speech.

Gone like Enron,
Jon


Thursday, August 12, 2004

I wouldn’t even begin to know how to explain this feeling to a 13 year old. So if you happen to be 13 and reading through this blog, let me put it in context for you. Remember those memories of childhood? The one’s I’m talking about are the REALLY early ones like your second birthday or the first time you rode a bike. When you’re younger, they're vivid. You can describe the cake and who was their and maybe if you’re really sharp, you remember what you were wearing and the gifts you got. Eventually though, the memory dwindles. At first you only remember the cake and gifts and who was there. Then you remember the cake and gifts. Then just the cake. Eventually you just remember that you had a birthday party and ultimately you start to embellish the event with new details that you are unsure of. Maybe they were the product of your overactive imagination more than your memory.


Congratulations young one, because that is the rest of your life. I’m not old in the grand scheme of things. 28 is on the precipice of “old” simply because a lot of the dumb crap that use to bring you joy seems kind of childish and like it or not, you’ll eventually surrender the last of the toys you’re hanging on to and the last offensive tee shirt you own. It just happens and its natural. How silly would the average 30 year old look playing with his ninja turtles and wearing a coed naked volleyball tee shirt? Here’s the secret though. You never really feel “old.” Yeah, I hurt the next day if I stay out until 2 and maybe I don’t crank the car stereo as loud as I once did. A skateboard now brings visions of body casts instead of inspiring me to learn a new jump. That’s life and that’s normal. The weird part is as you see it all spiraling away, you want so badly to hang on to it. The first time you don’t get carded for alcohol or the first time you notice more than a few gray hairs it breaks your heart. Instead of looking forward to all you can be, you begin to look back on what you were.

I didn’t believe or understand this just a few short years ago and I suspect that is the way it is suppose to be. I also suspect the older you get the quicker these years start sinking behind you like quicksand. The more imbedded you are, the faster you get pulled in. Eventually your first kiss no longer has the details it once did. There may even come a day when you’d be lucky to remember the person’s name. I’m not crazy enough to think there are not great adventures ahead, but I’m definitely beginning to accept that a lot of the milestones in life are becoming memories. Eventually they’ll get hazy. If you live long enough I suspect you might loose them.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

WOW!

I took this from some one else's site and I'll give props when I get permission.

"If you should happen to see a Pisces behind a teller’s cage, or sitting at a bank president’s desk, you’ll be viewing a rare kind of fish. Very few of these people can stand being confined for long in one place. You’ll have better luck if you wander into a spiritual séance, visit an art gallery, walk through a convent or a monastery, attend a concert or catch a floor show in a nightclub. You might check an Authors League meeting, drop backstage after a play, or try some sunbathing on a yacht.
The chances are you’ll come up with a pretty good catch in any of those streams of life. The more creative and artistic, the more leisurely and esoteric the surroundings, the more fish you’ll find. The net will be full of colorful, shimmering types, if you spread it out at the cocktail parties or gala balls. You might even hook a couple of mollies, or an exotic species, like Princess Lee Radziwill.
There’s little worldly ambition in Neptune people. Most of them wouldn’t give a minnow for rank, power or leadership, and wealth holds little attraction. Few Pisces people accumulate money by the bushel, unless the marry it or inherit it. Mind you, they have nothing against cash. They’ll gladly accept any old coins you can’t use. But they’re more aware than most of us of its temporal qualities.
Whoever said, “I don’t want to be a millionaire – I just want to live like one,” was truly reflecting the Piscean philosophy. The typical Neptune heart is free of greed. There’s a lack of intensity, almost a carelessness about tomorrow. There’s also an intuitive knowledge of yesterday and a gentle tolerance of today. It’s never easy for either real or human fish to struggle and fight their way upstream. It’s more common, and it takes less effort, to go with the current wherever it takes them. But to swim upstream is the challenge of Pisces – and the only way he ever finds true peace and happiness. Taking the easy way is a trap for those born under this Sun sign, a glittering bait that entices them, while it hides the dangerous hook – a wasted life.
You’ll be impressed with the Piscean charm of manner and lazy good nature. He’s indifferent to most limiting restrictions, if they don’t rob him of his freedom to dream and feel his way through life. He’s even more indifferent to insults, recriminations and other people’s bristling opinions. Tell a Piscean that society is decadent, the government is cracking, air pollution will put us all in our graves and the world is coming to a dead stop, and he’ll yawn, or smile enchantingly, or look vaguely sympathetic. Very little will excite him to violent action or reaction. Of course, the fish is not completely bland. He does have a temper. When he’s finally aroused, he can be bitingly sarcastic, with a clever, caustic tongue. Neptunians can lash their tails angrily and spill forth a torrent of nervous irritability, but the typical Pisces will normally take the path of least resistance, and the cool waters of Neptune continually wash away his anger. To arouse the fish to a display of temper is rather like tossing a pebble into a clear, mirror-smooth lake. You’ll create some ripples, but the surface will soon be calm again.
When you meet Pisces people, look first at their feet. They’ll be quite noticeably small and dainty (including the men’s), or else they’ll be huge and spread out like a tired washerwoman’s. The Pisces hands will also be tiny, fragile, and exquisitely formed – or else big ham bones that look as though they belong behind a plow. The skin is silky soft; the hair is fine, often wavy, and usually light (though you’ll find a goodly number of brunette fish). Pisces eyes are liquid, heavy-lidded, and full of strange lights. Frequently, but not always, they’re slightly protruding, bulbous and extremely compelling. Some Piscean eyes are simply beautiful. There’s no other word to describe them. The features are elastic and mobile, and you’ll usually find more dimples than wrinkles. Few Pisceans are tall; Neptune bodies are sometimes awkwardly build, but with their extraordinary grace, it’s seldom discernible. They seem to sort of flow along, instead of walking – as if they were swimming across the room or down the street. Sometimes they really are. Where’s the liquid? It may be nearby, and the fish is attracted to it.
It can be a love of ice water, the habit of a dozen cups of tea or coffee a day, a hankering for soda pop – or a yen for something stronger. Like Scorpios and Cancerians, Pisces people are wise to stay miles away from alcohol. Very few Neptunians can have a social cocktail, then leave it alone. There are some, naturally. But too many Pisceans find enticing relief from trouble in liquor. It lulls them pleasantly with a false sense of security and it’s a dangerous lullaby. Of course, every Pisces who drinks a pousse-café doesn’t become an alcoholic, but the percentage is higher than it ought to be.
The fish was born with the desire to see the world through rose-colored spectacles. He knows well enough about the seamy side of humanity, but he prefers to live in his own watery, gentle world, where everyone is beautiful and all actions are lovely. If reality becomes too terrible to face, he often escapes into rosy daydreams with powder puff foundations and not a prayer of coming true. When life dumps him with a splash – a real belly-smacker – into a stagnant river of dismal failure and hopeless conditions, instead of leaping out of the murky danger, he’s more inclined to hide behind his pale green illusions which keep him from making practical decisions. The rejected Pisces is too inclined to face the ugliness of failure by deepening his false hopes, when a determined switch of course of some new, forceful action might shower him with real, instead of imaginary, success.
Not every March-born person falls into such a typical Neptune trap, but enough of them do to make it a necessary warning. The Pisces writer may be tempted to lounge for years in bars, telling himself he’s gathering material, when he’s really just gathering moss and unpaid bills. The Pisces artist who can’t get the patronage he seeks may stroll through the park, day after day, mumbling into his beard that he’s studying nature as a background for his great masterpiece, while his paint brushes gather dust. Where is the angel who will support him while he splashes canvases with glory? The Piscean woman, left alone, with just enough fixed income to keep a roof over her head and a little seaweed in the cupboard, will tend to dream away the hours, tenderly remembering yesterday, hazily hoping for tomorrow, and wasting the bright sunlight of today. The actor, composer, musician – you fill in the stories.
You may have read that the Pisces symbol of two fish, swimming in opposite directions, indicates that the Neptunian is torn by dual desires. It’s not so. Dual desires belong to Gemini. The two fish in reversed directions symbolize the choice given to Pisces: to swim to the top – or to swim to the bottom and never quite reach his goals. Pisces must learn that he is to serve mankind in some way, and eschew worldly possessions. Piscean Einstein, who swam upstream, formulated a whole new world of relative time. Pisceans who swim downstream serve by washing dishes or shoveling snow. The choice is always there, because there’s never a lack of unusual talent, but the fish, with eyes that see clearly on both sides, sometimes has difficulty seeing straight ahead. Pisces often retreats – either to the sublime heights of a dedicated professional life, or to stimulants, artificial emotions and false excitement.
Although Pisceans shrink from competition, the strong pull of Neptune sends many of them, even the shy ones, toward the bright footlights, where they can use their fabulous powers of interpretation to project myriad emotions. In spite of their natural timidity, they often become some of the finest performers in the theater. But only if they fight their distaste for the hard work of grueling rehearsals, and the dullness of the dreary, but necessary years of experience. Sometimes the sharp wounds of the critics leave such a scar on the sensitive Pisces souls that a potential Barrymore or Bernhardt retires when fame was just ahead. Memorization is seldom a problem. The Pisces memory is legendary, although with an allocated Moon or Mercury they can forget their own telephone numbers.
To every Pisces, from the fisherman on the wharf to the nurse in the children’s hospital, life itself is a huge stage. In the reflective eye of the fish, the entire scene is elusive and fleeting. Knowing this, Neptunians accept most storms with tranquil equilibrium. Despondency, however, is always threatening to swoop down and bring peculiar dreams or weird nightmares which are often precognitive. When Pisces has a feeling something will happen, it usually does. If he tells you not to get on that plan or in that car, you’d better plan to swim or walk.
Astrologers who speak of an old soul refer to a soul which has gone through many lives, retaining the wisdom of each. Often they refer to Pisces, because a life as the fish is either the most difficulty obligation a soul can choose – or a chance to reach perfect fulfillment. While Aries represents birth in the zodiac, Pisces represents death and eternity. The fish is the twelfth sign, a composite of all that’s gone before, and his nature is a blend of all the other signs, which is quite a lot to cope with. His surprising ability to organize and concentrate on detail which pops up now and then, as well as his gentleness, reflects his inner knowledge of the lessons of Virgo. His judgment is as fair and detached as that of Libra, and his love of pleasure is also purely Libran. Pisces people have the crazy sense of fun of Cancers, as well as both Cancerians sympathy and crabbiness. They’re sometimes full of the Sagittarian outspoken frankness and generosity, as fun-loving and outgoing as Leo, yet as devoted to duty as Capricorn, and often just as envious of social distinction. There may also be a smattering of the Saturnine melancholy. Perhaps more that just a smattering. The fish can be as moody as a Moon child and as happy as a lion. He likes to tease and analyze in Aquarian fashion. He’s often overflowing with Aries idealism and enthusiasm, but usually without the Mars drive. A Pisces person can zip around with Gemini quickness, talk just as fast and think just as cleverly. He can also be as lazy and peaceful as Taurus. He has the clever wit of Mercury and the soft grace of Venus, and he combines it with the mystic penetration of Scorpio, without the Scorpio’s ruthlessness.
Pisces holds within himself the fondness of debate of all the air signs, the love for nature of all the earth signs and the flaming aspirations of all the fire signs. But he is neither fixed nor cardinal. The fish is mutable always; in this respect he is undiluted. The one and only quality which originates with his own sign is his strange power to stand outside himself and see yesterday, today and tomorrow as one. The Piscean love of music and art, and his highly developed senses and versatility he owes to other signs, but his deep wisdom and compassion belong only to him, culled from the combined knowledge of every human experience. Now that you understand all that, is it any wonder that your Pisces friends are a bit of a puzzle at times, not to mention being outright kooky odd balls on occasion?
Pisceans tend to think they can live forever, and they often act as though they believed it fervently. The fish typically doesn’t take very good care of himself. Chances are he spends most of his excess energy (and he doesn’t have too much to spare) helping relatives in trouble or taking on the burdens of friends. Their troubles can be emotional or financial, but either can be a serious drain on Piscean health, which is rarely robust to begin with. The fish must conserver his energy and refrain from succumbing to stimulants or sedatives, fatigue and other people’s emergencies. Weakest as infants, seldom sturdy as children (unless there’s a strong Mars influence in the natal chart), Pisces people seem to have slow metabolisms, which is why they often wake up sleepy-eyed and listless. Poor eating habits can bring troubles with liver and intestinal functions and digestive troubles. Accidents too, or some abnormalities of the feet, hands or hips are common, also colds, flu and pneumonia. The lungs are not strong, and weak toes and ankles may result from March births. The fish seem to have fallen arches and metatarsal injuries or superbly strong and supple feet. There’s no inbetween. They have a hidden inner resistance, however, and one of the challenges of Neptune is to discover this latent strength and call on it. Pisceans can literally hypnotize themselves into or out of anything they choose – including fear of cats, mice, heights, subways, elevators and people.
Humor is one of their secret weapons. Pisceans grin to cover unshed tears. They’re masters of satire, and you may cringe from a bright remark thrown at you so casually that you’re unable to pin down the exact meaning or the intent. Yet, you’ll have a decidedly uncomfortable feeling. The fish can scatter caustic observations around like flashing lights which wink on and off so fast you can’t keep up with them. He’s an excellent practical joker, great a pulling hilarious likes while he keeps his own elastic face mournful and straight. He can move gracefully from slapstick to brittle, sophisticated jokes. Sometimes the fun is warm and harmless, sometimes it’s cold and merciless; bit it’s always a cover for another emotion the fish wants to hide, seldom spontaneous of itself. Pisces wears his laughs as a mask, and they disguise him well.
There’s a great feeling of pity and a desire to help the sick and weak. Pisces may share compassion for the ill with Virgo, but he takes the extra step to try to understand the hearts of the burdened and the friendless, the failures and the misfits, no matter how weird or how rejected by society. The fish will gently comfort those whom Virgo feels are weak by choice, and therefore undeserving. If you need a dime or a dollar, a large loan, or just a small encouragement that no one else would give, go to Pisces. You’ll get no lectures and no glances or superiority. He judges no man – thief, murderer, addict, pervert, sinner, saint, hypocrite or liar. Greed, lust, sloth and envy will bring no critical wrath, if he’s a typical Neptunian. His understanding overflows, along with whatever practical help he’s able to offer. He senses every vice and virtue, and he knows each pitfall. Many fish, for this reason, don the robes of the priest or monk, and spend their lives in prayer or contemplation.
To help is his first instinct. There are Pisces people who are crusty and brusque, but it’s only a fragile shell, worn for protection. The fish soon learns how vulnerable he is. The world is not yet tuned to the sensitive Piscean wavelength, so to avoid ridicule (as well as to avoid being taken for every last dime he owns), he sometimes feigns indifference. The impositions of those who would trample him force the fish to hide his true spirit. Since the depth of Neptune’s waters causes him to absorb every pain and joy as if they were his own, it’s little wonder many Pisceans pretend disinterest in hearing sad stories. But remember that they are pretending. If you’ve been rebuffed once, try twice, and the real fish will surface.
The glorious Piscean imagination, their marvelous elfin humor and the Neptunian sense of beauty can create the most delicate, yet eternally lasting prose and poetry. Indeed, the world couldn’t do without their artistic efforts and their gentle compassion for a moment. It would stop spinning. You’ll frequently find fish who have buried their personal dreams to brighten odd corners of the lives of relatives and friends, or to bring the gift of tears and laughter to the public through stage, at the cost of the privacy Pisces seeks and needs. Yet Neptune is a deceptive planet, capable of giving birth to natures that twist and turn in two directions at once, distorting the truth, and influence which often causes Pisces to hide his real emotions.
The thespian quality is obvious if you’ve ever tried to pin down the elusive, flashing fish. He hates to answer a direct question with a yes or a no. It’s always maybe. A simple curiosity about what play he just say or what book he just read can bring an evasive answer for no reason in particular. He can turn on tears, then turn on sunshine by pressing another invisible switch. Neither is truly real. All is illusion with Pisces, and they find it hard to tell the difference themselves. Their internal nature is as unfathomable as Neptune’s great oceans. The altruistic fish is filled with an inexhaustible, tender love for every living creature which is truly saint-like, when it’s not turned inward in self-pity and self-love. Typically Pisceans are the gregarious housewives with hearts big enough for the troubles of all the neighbors, and the patient bartenders who listen sympathetically to hundreds of tales of woe each week.
Hanging somewhere between the silent waters of the sea below and the vast, star-studded mist above, only barely toughing the earth from necessity, Pisces lives his life in lonely understanding of truth too deep to express in words. Those who want him for a friend, those who love him, must use their imagination to grasp the strange planes of his mind and emotions. The other two water signs – Scorpio and Cancer – are symbolized by half land – half water creatures, amphibious and flexible – but the fish can’t breathe air. He must life in cool green water, sometimes muddy, always moving.
Pisces is represented, not by iron or mercury or gold or lead, but by the vibrations of the indefinable, artificial metals – again, an echo of the unreal and the illusionary. He sees his reflection in three dimensions in the violet amethyst and the clear emerald; and his natal flowers are the water lily and the lotus. Their blossoms are pink and while and delicate, but their stems and leaves and made of strong fibers, rough and indestructible, unless they’re torn up by the roots. Few can follow Pisces and probe his aquamarine nature, whether he swims downstream to oblivion, just another lashing speck in the large, moving school or fish – or fights his way upstream to conquer the swift current and find serenity in pure waters. He is stronger that he thinks and wiser that he knows, but Neptune guards this secret until he discovers it for himself."

Saturday, August 07, 2004

Saturday is sort of my quiet time for reflection. I am at work with not a whole hell of a lot to do. So it is my time to really reflect on the week, month, year, life, I could go on. This morning, something made me think of the episode of “Seinfeld” where George decides he is going to do exactly the opposite of what he wants. Simply put, so much of his life has gone into the crapper based on his decisions. As far as Vegas style odds go, it makes perfect sense. If you don’t like the way your life turned out then start doing the opposite of what you’ve been doing to change it.


We all go against our desires from time to time. The best example is getting up and going to work every day. I doubt most of us WANT to go to work. I’m sure anyone can think of dozens of times each day that they do the opposite of what they want. The best example is eating. I’d personally eat food completely devoid of nutrition if I always went with what I wanted. Sometimes in life, the bigger issues go against what we want. I’d say most of us have loved someone who was wrong for us and as much as we wanted to be with that person, we didn’t let our feelings dictate our actions. Every time I have to replace a car, I want the really nice one with the $400 a month payment. So life is full of these decisions.

Suppose you always went with the opposite of what you wanted to do. I dropped a Biology degree and a full scholarship, because I was lazy at 18 and didn’t want to study hard. What if I had made myself do the opposite of what I wanted? I’d probably be doing a meaningful and fulfilling job and more importantly not tossing half a paycheck every month towards student loans. Honestly the possibilities are endless. You wake up in the morning and want to go back to bed, but instead you go the gym. You want a thick bacon cheeseburger, but instead you have a salad. In some ways self denial might be the first step to health, fulfillment and enlightenment. Instead of allowing outside forces to make us go against what we want (seriously, who WANTS to pay taxes) we should harness this power to improve our lives.


Every day we make little decisions that completely go against what we want. I want to blow off work, get a pack of Marlboros and hit the beach. Instead, I make the decision to be healthy and not smoke and be responsible and go to work. Yet this same self control could really work wonders in our own lives. While we might want the self destructive relationship and the unhealthy food and the lazy way to get through life, we can exhibit the self control to deny ourselves these things. Isn’t that our greatest power as humans? We can acknowledge what we want and still exhibit the self control and rational thought to go against that instinct. Imagine what sweeping global changes could come if we all did the opposite of what we wanted. In the end, the pursuit of more money, food, drugs, alcohol, tobacco, sex, love, possessions and knowledge usually leaves us emptier than when we first set out after these things.


Friday, August 06, 2004

Ain't that a kick in the pants? Just a scant forty miles to the west I sat at home not knowing that the band I would grow to love in 4 years was putting on a rare North American show. Oh to have a time machine or at least a more discerning musical palate at 22.


Is it just me, or is this simply pathetic? First they help Nadder get on the ballot and now they want the Amish. I'm thinking somebody in Washington is nervous.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Sometimes I get homesick but I don’t exactly know how to pin down my definition of “home”. Sometimes, it is a small studio apartment my mom shared with her Chihuahua. I never lived there, but it is the first spot I remember her and my little buddy living alone without me. She’s in Australia now and Oliver has gone on. If there is a doggy heaven he’s wheezing and shaking at the sight of all the other bigger dogs that have gone before him.

Sometimes home is the ranch style house we lived in from my 4th grade year until I was a high school sophomore. Its full of memories of my Mom in a body cast following one of her many back surgeries and the yelling that accompanied her disintegrating marriage to my step father. For me, those days were mostly spent in the throws of puberty and dealing with being a rather fat kid who was the last on his block to get cable.

Sometimes home is the condo Mom fled to on the beautiful beaches of St. Augustine. It was really the first time in my life I had some level of freedom. I worked the entire first summer bagging groceries in the evenings and spent the day basking in the sun. I got tanned, lost weight and went through being the new kid. While I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, it did afford me the chance to make some friends, go to some dances and generally have fun without getting into real trouble.

Then came college where nothing ever felt like home. Since then I can not say I have ever laid down much in the way of roots. For a while my ex and I had a condo, but I didn’t even have a corner of that place to myself, let a lone a room of my own. If you can not put up a poster or even have much of your own stuff out in the open, then that does not a home make. Otherwise, I have drifted from dorms to apartments for the better part of a decade. I currently live in a pretty nice house with my best friend from high school. It has been the longest I’ve stayed in one place since high school. I’m currently at the year and a half mark.

Maybe it is sort of sad that the last decade of my life has personified that Dave Matthews line that keeps replying in my head, “a rolling stone gathers no moss, just leave a trail of busted stuff.” As my roommate’s girlfriend has been spending most nights at “our” place I’m once again realizing home will be taking on a new meaning again soon. She is great and I love the girl to death, so I’m happy for the both of them, but he owns the house and one day the shuffle of me heading off to work will probably be replaced with the pitter patter of their children’s feet.


So here I am once again staring down another cross road. There are plenty of directions I can go. I could be responsible and buy a house or condo here and admit Florida is my home. I could then go about growing old in the place that has served as my base camp for the better part of my time on earth. Yet, I’m not ready for the steady life right now. A home to me represents ties and financial burdens and I can not think of anything more unsettling than watching all my friends settle down and raise a family while I go home to an empty place every night.

Option two involves me finally getting the nerve to move to Seattle. Yes, I could hate it and moving to a city that often tops the national rankings as having the most suicides might not be the best place to send someone who has battled depression. Between here and there is a whole country with millions of livable towns, cities and boroughs. I have yet to meet a city that doesn’t offer some promise of exciting adventures. Soon enough, I’m going to have to decide to take a leap into the unknown and risk coming home all too soon with my tail between my legs or just collapsing into the very comfortable couch that I call my hometown and spend the rest of my days wondering “what if.” What will happen next? Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." -- John Lennon
Perhaps I am alone here, but haven’t the rest of you noticed life is never simple? It is not easy to forget your past or not to worry about your future. You can not erase people or memories from your brain as much as it might benefit your mental health. The truth is if emotions were the type of thing you could pick and choose, then would they even be as magical as they are? Probably not.

The two strongest, in my experience, are Guilt and Love. Both will make you do things you honestly don’t want to do and often they kick their distant cousin Common Sense out the back door, until he comes back later to pick up the mess they made. “It must have been quite a party”, Common Sense mumbles under his breath as he scrubs at the stains in the carpet.


Tuesday, August 03, 2004

There has to be some merit to astrology, but how do you justify it when it isn’t always accurate? I am a Pisces II and so is my brother. While I am very much into art and the abstract and not concerned with keeping up with the practical world and certainly live in a universe of my own creation, my brother is very practical and down to earth and even likes (sic) math! Not the non linear fun kind Einstein, a fellow fish, was into, but the kind that fills spreadsheets. So why then am I such a textbook Pisces II and he is so very much not. Pisces are excellent imitators, but at some point the real you must come out. In his case, he must be vastly gifted at hiding this, or astrology is total BS. The verdict is still out for me.





The metaphysical and everything after.


I love the writing style of Chuck Palahniuk. Yeah, he’s the brains behind “Fight Club” the book, not the movie. So I was reading another of his books called “Lullaby” last night and I heard a knock at the front door. It was after midnight and I went and looked and there was no one there. A few seconds after I closed my bedroom door, I heard the distinct sound of my roommate opening his and then walking down the hallway to look out the front door. Then I heard him return to his room and close his door after drawing the same conclusion I did.


So this morning I asked him about the incident and he reassured me that he has no clue what I am talking about and he did not leave his room all night. So in the 12 years I’ve known the guy, never once has he enjoyed a practical joke, much less played one. “Lullaby” kicks off with a main character that makes her living selling haunted houses and then uses the clients desperate for a quick resale to make her fortunes. Perhaps my imagination got the better of me.

“The Village” didn’t blow me away. Bryce Dallas Howard was amazing though and worth the ticket price.