R&J Costumes

Here are some drawings of costumes for Romeo and Juliet from the Shakespeare play of the same name. I'm borrowing heavily from the Godfather movies, particularly the first one. I need to stop working on those, however so that I can finish the schedule. We start this week. I'm kind of excited, I must say.

Ask a Ninja

Some Ninja action for your enjoyment.

ZZZZZzzzzzzzzz....... Psych.

I'm not sure how sleep works, in particular how it works with me. I've always been curious about the mystery of sleep. When I was a kid I always tried to pinpoint the moment that I fell asleep. To this day I am, of yet, unsuccessful. I once successfully, or at least believe that I successfully affected my dreams. One night as a youth I dreamed an amazing dream about only God knows and woke up in the middle of it frustrated that it hadn't continued. I guess I had to use the restroom or something. Well, as I lay back down I was determined to affect my dreams so that I started the same dream again. I'm not remembering if it started where it left off or if I had to start from the beginning, but by concentrating deeply on the dream and what it was about I was able to create the conditions of my dream again.

By the way, while I'm thinking of it, if you are interested in dreams and the subconcious mind, do yourself a favor and watch Waking Life by Richard Linklater. He directed School of Rock and Dazed and Confused but he also has some lesser known (lesser by big market standards, I mean, most people who really like indie film have seen it, but it could concievably be off most people's radar) movies. Waking Life is chronoscoping animation, much like his current film A Scanner Darkly, in which the actors are filmed but then the movie is animated using the original footage. It makes for a kind of mind trippy looking film.

Anyway, Waking Life takes a guy trying to wake from a dream from place to place in his dream, unable to wake up, and he just keeps meeting these different people who pontificate on the oddities of sleep and dreaming, and how it compares with life awake, and so on... If your only qualification for a movie is a compelling story then you might not like Waking Life but if you listen to NPR you'd probably like it.

This is all to say that I can't get to sleep and I'm confused as to how my body decided this. I've really confused my sleep clock this time.

For the last several nights I've been going to sleep late. Really late. So late it's early late. One morning Amanda woke up to go to a workshop at 8 am and I was still up, cleaning out the computer room. I was tired, but I was more interested in pictures I was finding that I hadn't looked through in awhile. And, let's face it, I wasn't that tired. I'd been sleeping late enough and couple that with the fact that I'm a night person anyway and I could stay up a long time. Saturday night it all kind of hit the fan because we had to wake up to go to church at 9 the next morning. With a new computer to play with, sure enough I had little interest in sleep until I forced my retirement at 6 am. With a 8:30 wake up and a very disappointing Astros game to look forward to I wasn't really looking forward to the next day, and even contemplated just staying up. But, I gave in and with 2+ hours of sleep went to church with bags under my eyes. Church was fine. I zoned out some, but was a lot more alert than I thought I'd be. A nail biting Astros game at Minute Maid Park kept my attention for the next few hours, but by the time the game was over I was ready to hit the hay. Amanda and I got home around 4:30 and I immediately went for the bedroom and got comfy. I wasn't ready to sleep yet, but instead watched a movie with Amanda. By the time 8 was rolling around I was ready to call it a night. I fell asleep around 8:30.

3 and a half hours later I wake up thinking that it's morning but I'm confused as to why it was so dark outside. I figured that it might be raining. I also notice Amanda's watching "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel and not The Today show and ask "What time is it?"

"11:30 at night." She says, "you've been asleep for 3 hours." I thought it had been one of the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.

So now after practically no sleep a three hour nap was all I needed and I'm wide the freak awake again! Why can I go to bed at midnight and sleep til noon, but if I try to go to sleep at 8:30, even after a full day, I sleep for three hours? Makes no sense.

Part 4: This one is called "Flashing...Eyes!"

As I sat buckled into my muddy grave I was left to think about my life. I went back mentally to the face of my dear mother and her sympathetic looks as my stepfather berated me with accusations of thievery and insubordination. All the while I took the abuse. Whenever I pleaded with my stepfather that it wasn't I who took his cigarettes the side of my face met headlong with his high school state championship ring. Heaven forbid that I point out to him that in his drunken stupor he had tossed the carton behind the refrigerator, and all he need would be to enlist the help of a coat hanger or such tool with which he could reach behind and retrieve the cigarettes. Surely that would have been a dire mistake. My only recourse was to accept the punish that came my way and hope that he tired himself quickly. After the tyrant was out of physical steam he resorted to the verbal before retiring to his Laz-E-Boy. "Pansy!" This was just one of many feminine epithet to which I was attributed. Would stare up blankly at my mother who would shrug, struggling to fight back tears and rage. But it wasn't sympathy that I required of the woman who bore me. As I studied the plains animals in Africa for my middle school ecology class I was envious of the lion cubs and even the prehatched snakes. The natural instinct of their mothers was to put themselves in danger for the sake of their young. A mother cheetah, when faced with a pack of hyennas would not run, as they would certainly be able to outrun the lot, but would stand her post in a show of power amid a powerful foe.

I would rise and trod past my maternal life giver, giving close attention to give eye contact. If I neglected to force my glance I would not be able to look her in the eye. With a tight clenched jaw upon my upper lip I slunk into my bedroom, resigned to face this scenario again before the week was through.

As I made my way into the upper levels of my education I slowly became all but a recluse. My routine consisted of a bus ride to school where I buried myself in the backs of classrooms wearing subdued colors as to not draw attention to myself. Not a word spoken for fear that someone might hear me and want to respond. I was on constant alert for anything that might act as the key that would unlock my chest of sorrow. In adolescence the most feared thing for a typical student is vulnerability, but for me vulnerability was more than just fears and self-doubt. It was inherit self-loathing. I was convinced that it was not so much I who was condemned to live a life of pain and anguish, but yet my entire lineage was cursed and doomed to a life of subversive meekness and low status and abilities. Generations upon generations of my family could amount to nothing and this is what had been passed on to me and I will to my children pass on even greater woe and suffering.

Just when I had convinced myself, however, that I would never know happiness she entered the classroom in which I slouched. She was wearing black clothes and did not paint her face the way that other girls did, but she had a pale face that shown through her jet black hair like a single burst of sunlight, piercing through a crack in my cell of isolation. She did not smile or look up as the teacher read from her schedule card. "We have a new student, her name is Jasmine." Jasmine! Oh, appropriate names, have thee no finer specimen! "There is a seat next to this....gentleman. I assure you, you will not be bothered here." As the others snickered at Mrs. Frank's accidental jab I sank into a new kind of despair. I was immediately smitten with Jasmine, but Mrs. Frank's inability to recall my name highlighted a major setback if I were to ever attempt to pursue her: I've never said a word in front of any of these people and before I can make the leap at courting a lady I must first speak. Such a drastic turn of events would surely cause pause in a group of misfits whom I had successfully staved off for the better part of 10 years. As we all know as soon as young man or woman notices anything out of the ordinary he or she finds that it is his or her inherit right and duty to point it out for all to see. This is customarily followed by ridicule and scoffing of said perpetrator of the unusual act. This may be a consequence that I was willing to take.

Coming soon: Part 2 of Part 4.

Romeo and Juliet Set

I don't know when I'm going to finish that story I was writing. I feel like I should even though I'm not sure it was going anywhere. Maybe someone out there (Rozie) would like to finish it for me. What happened to the fire guy? all that jazz.

The last few days I've been working on a set design for Romeo and Juliet which I'm directing in Aug.-Sept. at school. The show is already cast and we begin on August 7. So if any cast members are reading this, 3 o'clock in my room, kay?

Here's what the set is looking like so far:

Floor plan: I'm limited to some extent because I can't build anything stationary below the act curtain because the school has an open house in the auditorium early in the year with the orchestra needing to be onstage. They don't want to see my set. (Yeah, like it would just offend the eyes of the parents, or something.) Anyway, the big round thing to the right rotates so that Juliet has her balcony and then it turns around to reveal her bedroom.

This is the first drawing I did of what the front should look like. The round balcony on the right is too big and there are some other issues with the back wall, but this is basically what it will look like. I've also been thinking that I might have the whole left wall swing in using the rotating platforms fulcrum.

This is a more to scale drawing, although it's obviously not as fleshed out. I eventually plan to get this one colored and such.

Snoop Took Over Ya Blizog, Cracka!

Yo! Step up, playaz. Take a lizzook at T- to the H to the is

Part 3: "Burning Hate" (still)

After what seemed like a dream but was reality in it's most gruesome and horrific tangible authenticity, I had pseudo-unintentionally destroyed our suburban flat, and could hear the screams of horror from neighbors, whose adjoining apartments were suffering similar fates. My body covered in cracking, lapping whips of flare and flame I was struck with the sudden realization of what was happen, although I was still not entirely sure how it had happened. I was suddenly aware, however, that, whatever had happened, I was at fault and that I needed to vacate the premises with hast and without leaving my unfaithful, now deceased spouse and her deceased lover at the scene. With the sound of sirens from the impending authorities in my ears, I fled with two charred and unrecognizable corpses flung over a shoulder to my automobile. I sped away in my Geo hatchback as fast as I could to as remote an area of the country I knew of and tried desperately to make sense of what had happened.

The sensation all over my body was warm enough to make me sweat but was simultaneously causing the air from the open windows of my hatchback to chill my skin all over. It felt like the most comfortable fever I'd ever experienced. One would think that the smell from the dead, burnt bodies in the back of the car would over-power the stint's of the singed hair that once covered my own body, yet, my newly bare form was keenly apparent to me from what was the unmistakable smell of my own burnt body hair. Oddly enough, not even a sunburn or pink patch of skin could be found. Rather, my pale and tender complexion was as it had always been. Only hairless and warm. Such immunity to fire could not be said of my wife or her companion crackling in the back seat, losing more of their earthly coil with every bump and curve in the long, isolated road.

Had I really just set fire to myself, and, in doing so, to my wife and to our apartment? Was the betrayal of my only love so desperately vile to me that, in a fit of rage I had ended her life, and the life of the man who perpetrated the act along with her? I tried to recall my adolescent years, taking physical science classes, and fire safety videos in chemistry, all cataloging what was required to make a fire. One would need fuel, a spark, and oxygen to create a fire. To my knowledge my body was lacking, if not two main components, then certainly one. And why was my own flesh impervious to the heat and flame even when my hair was not? All of these questions raced inside of me, all the while gradually allowing hate to creep in to justify my actions as retribution for my lost love's transgressions. As I concentrated on my wife's callow dishonesty, and my father's absence, and my mother's weakness I felt my pores begin to whistle softly and my skin became warm and my eyes pressurize, burning as if every blood vessel was ready to burst out, crying for fresh air. Peering down as I drove, a shallow, blue wave of light cover my right hand as I allowed myself to dwell on the hate I was feeling for those that had wronged me. My mind snapped to as I violently shook my hand before the flame could spread to my upper-arm. Wavering from the road, my eyes failed to see the dark canyon of trees through which I traveled curve slightly to the left. I lost control and my vehicle careened into a large ditch, swallowing it whole and trapping my victims and me inside as both doors and open windows were blocked on either side by earth, grass and mud. My solitary wish was that the high, narrow walls of the trench would hinder the incidental passer-by from noticing my little toy car, not to be rescued until I had met the same fate of my rear passengers.

To be continued. (it might not be called "Side Show" after all)

The Electric Car

Taking a break from my weird "Top Hat Guy" story, take a look at this. I know that the idea of an electric car universe wouldn't be a popular concept in Baytown, of all places, but think about it. We gotta do something and I can't understand what the problem is. I'm looking forward to seeing this movie and any information anyone else has on this. Why did they stop making these, seemingly, great vehicles?

Part 2: "Burning Hate"

When I first realized my unique problem I was at first somewhat excited. After the initial shock I thought that there could be some sort of capital to be gained from such a talent. This would require that I alter my mood on cue as to be able to take control of the fire. You see, it only occurs when I'm angry. Being a fairly docile creature by nature I had never really reached the requisite point of anger required for combustion. That is until my 23rd birthday when it was that I discovered it. On my 23rd birthday my lovely bride of 10 months and I had plans to play miniture golf. There was a popular miniture putting course in town at the time. This was before...(clears throat)the big one. Or I guess I should say the bigger one. (Starts a week laugh but thinks better of it.) She and I played together quite a lot in those days. I can't say that we lived a high octane life, but it was ours and we were happy. I was happy. She asked what I wanted to do and I said miniture golf. It was just a birthday and I didn't feel the need to do anything too extravegant aside from maybe two glasses of wine with dinner instead of just one. My bride was obviously unhappy with our plans. I arrived home from work that day to find her in bed with another man. He was our accountant, Steve. A friend. I thought.

As you could imagine I was deeply sorrowed. I had felt sadness before. My father left my family when I was thirteen. Old enough to know exactly what was going on but still young enough to have my innocence ripped from me. My mother entered into a slew of abusive and doomed relationships. Watching my mother make poor decision, one after another, was heartbreaking. No, I'd been burned on more than one occasion...no pun intended. Perhaps that's why I'd always been seen as the quiet one.

But, when I walked into the room and saw him and...and her...I...I reached deep down and decided that it was time to unleash anger. I don't think that it was anger brought on purely from my wife's infidelity but from every person who had wronged me in my life. The anger that had been harboring for so long within the depths of me, that I'd kept hidden and sqelched, was finally allowed to show it's red face to the one person in my life that I'd allowed myself to trust beyond comprimise. It was a betrayal that could be compared with that of Brutus but my rage was that of a wild hyenna. If a wild hyenna burst into flames everytime it struck it's prey.

Coming soon, Part 3: "Side Show"

Part 1: the Apologist

(A tall man with a top hat and Mutton chops approaches a microphone which is situated directly under a bright, single spot light. He is gangly and his face is sunken in and he seems very tired and serious. He speaks.)

Good evening. I'm sure most of you know who I am by now. I'm sure that most of you are aware of why I'm here. Let me start of by thanking you for allowing me to come. I know that most of you did not want me here tonight, and for good reason. I can't say that I blame you. Thanks to efforts of my good friend Barthalomew...Barty...I stand in front of you today. I'm here to address you in all humility. I would like to ask first of all for your forgiveness. I know that many of you have been hurt. Most of you have had a loved one hurt. I would venture to guess that all of you know someone who has been hurt. Understand that this isn't easy for me. I didn't ask for this. If I knew how I would erraticate this affliction from my being but, as of yet, I have not discovered a valid means of doing so beyond...beyond ending my own life.

The burn from you eyes' glare does not go unoticed, I assure you. I feel the sting from your hatefilled and judgmental eyes deep down to my spine. The heat which I feel is tantamount to that which has been afflicted onto yourselves. I have suffered. The burden is mine.

Tomorrow, Part 2: Burning Hate

NYC Dormroom

This is a photo that I took from my dormroom where I lived the summer of 2000 when I was taking a film class at NYU. Since I was only there for the summer I didn't take anything to decorate the room with or to keep me entertained other than a CD player and my dad's old laptop for writing. I also had books, but I came to really miss TV. Sometimes I would go downstairs and watch the TV in the lobby of the building. After the first or second week I became acquainted with the girls across the hall and I would watch over there sometimes. Anyway, this post isn't about TV. It's about the photo. Most of the time I wasn't in the room because the class I was taking was Monday-Friday, 9 am-10 pm, and Saturdays from 9-5. I rarely had much time to myself in my room. As we began filming even Sundays became busy. But, on Sundays when I wasn't busy I had a lot of time to do whatever I wanted. Part of the class required some homework, but I usually finished it easily in minutes. I used the time to write screenplays and and stage scripts, but I could only do that on my Dad's old Mac which had become compatable with PCs yet. I had no way of printing what I was writing or sending it, so it was useless for the class. I tried to go to church on Sundays. I really enjoyed attending Manhattan CoC and even ran into people I knew. But, for the first three or so weeks in New York I was pretty bored and lonely. Finally, I made friends in the class, but it took some time, for whatever reason. I called a lot of people while I was there. I called my ex, my friends, my friends' parents and I even tried calling Amanda, who was in Upstate at a camp. She didn't call me back. Knowing her now, I'm not all that surprised.

Anyway, this photo kind of reminds me of how I was feeling at that time and I thought that I'd share.

Rocket, Man.

Spend some time with Shatner. You'll be glad you did.

A Lesson in the Physics of Superman Returns

Amanda and I went with our friends John and Maggie to see the new Superman movie. I enjoyed it. It made for a great summer popcorn flick to see on a weekday evening with nothing else to do. Dan Carlson does a really nice job of summing up the movie and all of the vast social implications for The Man of Steel and his legacy in America. Dan speaks highly enough of the movie considering he is a pretty tough critic, but I disagreed that the movie relied too heavily on the earlier Superman movies, which seemed to be his primary complaint. I would say that it relies a sufficient amount. Anyway, I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

As I mentioned, Dan felt that the movie's style was more or less an omage or perhaps even a cut-and-paste (with 2006 tech) of the style of Superman I & II. Yes, the tights and all are the classic red, blue and yellow, the little curl is present and even the clothes and cars seem stuck in the 1940s, but, other than the inexplicable internet, cell phones and flat screen televisions, one modern day advancement stuck out very clearly to me above any other. Take a close look at this picture. Do you see those little dimples on his arm. Those little dimples on his suit are the most distinguishing characteristic of the new getup. The director of Superman Returns, Bryan Singer himself, while explaining the small changes they made to the, essentially, unchanged suit, even neglected to note them in this interview. You might be asking yourself, "What does it matter if the suit has dimples or not?" "What is wrong with Kyle that he would forgo discussion about the plot line and inherit messianic qualities attributed to Superman in the new film to talk about the texture of the dang suit?" "Who cares?" The answer to these questions is...long. So, here's the short version. It matter's, but then again it doesn't.

And here's the long version.

Have you ever wondered why a golf ball flies so far? You probably haven't. But let's pretend that you have. It's because of the little dimples that cover the golf ball. For further explaination click here. You see, I was watching a documentary on Discovery Channel about Lance Armstrong and they discussed how the dimples on Lance's jersey cuts down on wind resistance. Clicking here will bring up a window that explains it further and shows a close up of the suit.

So, why would Superman need a suit like Lance Armstrong's? Quite simply, Superman would want as aerodynamic a suit as possible. He flies fast enough sure, but if you could cut a month off of your round trip to Krypton, a flight that would normally take five years, wouldn't you? The dimples can help with that. Of course, that doesn't account for the cape, which has to create drag, slowing him way down. I don't understand the function of the cape. It obviously doesn't aid in flight, as I once thought because he was able to fly without it.

And here we come the even bigger question. Why do they give the new Super-suit the dimple technology if they aren't even going to acknowledge it? Brandon Routh wasn't really flying or in need of superior aerodynamics. If it was only for asthetics then why ignore it?

Also, what's with the whole glasses/no glasses thing. I just can't get past the fact that it is so obviously the same guy.

I guess I recommend Superman Returns. Just try not to overthink it.

The movie get 3/5 bulls.

Pumpkin, the Cutest Cat Ever. Ever!

Sometimes when I'm going number 2 my cat, Pumpkin, likes to curl up in my pants sitting on the floor. He gets all comfy and snuggled up in there and I feel bad when I'm done and I've got to move him. After all, I don't want a cat living in my underwear.

Our cat, Pumpkin, is quite a unique cat. Just in case you have never met Pumpkin he is the Great Blogs of Fire mascot featured at the top of the page. He is constantly if not always doing something absolutely adorable. Sometimes I'll be typing in the computer room and Amanda will freak out, screaming, "Kyle, come here! Hurry! Quick, Kyle! Look at Pumpkin! Look what he's doing!" If I don't go she gets really down if I miss it. So, expecting to see Pumpkin wearing a bowtie and smoking a pipe while writing a letter to the President using perfect cursive with a ballpoint pen and saying "How do you spell incompetent," I get up and move into whatever room is hosting Pumpkin's marvelous feat.

Most likely it's nothing special. He's turned himself up-side-down, or is curled up underneath a blanket with just his face poking out or maybe Amanda's got him wrapped up in a blanket, all swaddled up like a fury-faced baby Jesus. Once he was sitting on the sofa like a person and Amanda (Who had probably propped him up there) thought this was grounds to call me away from the computer. She was right. Every time. I'm a softy for manufactured gooshiness, what can I say?

I've posted this picture before but I like it.

The Evolution of Love

The other day I was thinking about love and how it comes in different stages and how we learn something in each relationship that we take into the next. It's basically impossible to completely leave one relationship behind just because you've entered a knew one. Even if you want to. Basically, this is how it went for me.

Childhood: Commonly known as puppy love, having a girlfriend in elementary is basically just mimicry of what we see on television and between our parents or aunts, uncles or anyone else. The affection is really still just on the friend level.

adolescence: I dated or obtained a girlfriend for a number of reasons. Probably first was hormones and the desire to just get close to a girl. Dating in high school was just a reaction to what we thought was the social norm when you were attracted to someone. Second dating was for fun, and to have someone to go to dances with. Thirdly, there was an element of status about it. Having a girlfriend was validation that your mom isn't the only one on the planet who thinks you're adorable. The funny thing is that I told at least one girl and maybe more that I loved them. I even remember talking about the future with one, talking about how life would be as a married couple. I never actually believed any of the talk, but I guess it added to the allure that we were creating for ourselves. I know that lots of people do marry their high school sweetheart, but I, for one, can't even imagine it.

Break ups as a teenager, for me, at least, was more of an ego blow than actually heartbreaking. This is especially true early on, like in 6th grade when a girl broke up with me. I swore to everyone, "She beat me to it. I was going to break up with her." Of course, the few romantic relationships that I had after that were ended by me, so I never actually got to be the breakie. Something I later would wish upon myself out of self-loathing.

College Upon entering college and scoping out the landscape of beautiful women, most of them with marriage on the brain (it was the nature of things at a Christian university, a subject which could spawn research literature), I knew right away that I really needed to be careful. There were people getting together within the first couple weeks of being on campus and pledging their undying love for each other. One needed to be careful not to fall too hard too fast in this environment.

The first girl that I dated in college taught me this lesson better than other. She was older than me and ready for something deeper. I was not. Mostly, I recognized my ability to fall in love fast, without really evaluating my true feelings. Not realizing what love really was I lured someone else into a relationship that was doomed. I learned from this to be much more careful.

My second test of the love waters in college put me in the pursuers seat. I wanted a true relationship and she just wanted a friend. I never loved this girl or even claimed to, but when I couldn't emotionally connect with her it drove me crazy. Ending that relationship was mutual and easy. We stayed friends. From this relationship I learned that not all people are emotionally compatible.

Next, I dated a girl that many, including myself, thought would be the one. I loved her, and I told her that. There was a time when I wanted to end it but I was afraid that doing so would sabotage my best chance at someone who love me unconditionally. At least in college. The Christian university setting does a really good job of creating an atmosphere where people, not only want to marry, but want to marry someone from that school. The idea is that after college comes a career, and no time to date, and even if you could date, where would you find a suitable girl. My thoughts were that the pickings were slim after we left the school and that we better find a wife here. So I pushed thoughts of breaking off this relationship into the back of my mind. In doing so I sacrificed a big part of who I was in order to conform to what she was. I fell deeply in love, but in doing so I became someone else. When I did this the unthinkable happened. She moved emotionally from me. This was my big heartbreak. I knew the only recourse was to end the relationship, as hard as that was. The main thing that I learned from that relationship was to not settle. I didn't need someone so bad that I should sacrifice myself.

By this time I was close to leaving college and was settled on graduating on my own and dealing with the significant other question much later. I still wanted to be married but was much more picky now. I was not willing to be with someone I couldn't laugh with or talk to or tell everything to. I wasn't going to mess around with someone who didn't want to give to me as much as I wanted to give to them. Pretty soon, I just decided to stop looking.

As you can imagine, this is when something amazing happened. A lightbulb went off and an opportunity was placed in my lap. There were three conversations. These conversations lasted hours and solidified a notion that had been planted in my brain when I first met her. I had fun with her and she listened to me and she seemed to care about me, but she also wanted me to know her and there was this click. There was nothing that we couldn't handle because here was someone who wasn't going anywhere. Here was someone I could trust because she loved me enough to always be herself. Most of all, she made me more of myself. This is the last phase of love. Someone you can love more than yourself because you can't imagine yourself without her. She truly became, for me, what love was about. It was way more than love, but it was commitment and dependency. Not in a bad way, where every move she or I made was controlled by the other. But, a good way, like we wanted to do things with and for each other. In other relationships I felt I had to be a certain thing to make the relationship happen, but being myself is a prerequisite for this new relationship. It was definitely different. We grew together as we grew individually and then we grew as one. We were still able to grow individually but we never grew apart. She wasn't my girlfriend, she was my best friend.

Of course, I'm talking about Amanda. I'm not writing this as a love letter to her, although she could take it that way if she likes, but more of an evaluation of the evolution of love. First was mimicking, then was experimentation and then came a narrowing down. The narrowing down consists of discovering what love is not, choosing someone who can be loved, and then finally finding out what love really is. No research went into these findings except my own experience. I'm sure that everyone's journey is quite different and I mean in no way to suggest that there is one way to find love. I think, ultimately it comes down to finding the person who makes you feel most yourself. I always thought of it as being as close to God on earth as is possible.

The Death of the Internet

Watch this video. I think this is a really important issue for anyone who values the first ammendment.

COAnews

Major telecommunications companies are spending millions lobbying the U.S. congress to make the Internet into a private network. In political lingo this mean abandoning what is called "Net Neutrality". In common sense terms it's about the government withdrawing our right to Internet Freedom. This V-Doc. (viral documentary) is about the current threat to Internet Freedom and how we can hold on to the open Internet and our right to communicate.

The only way the telecommunications companies will be successful is if we fail to raise awareness about this situation. If people find out about the fact that we are about to lose our Internet freedom there is no way they will allow congress to do this.

This congressional decision will set a monumental precedent, and thus, impact not just U.S. citizens, but citizens all over world.

.

And then this:



I don't quite understand what all of this implies except that it will give individuals less of a voice. The wonderful disagreements, decention, dialogue and arguments that help edify us all will essential cease or at the very least slow to a crawl. Basically the individuality and freedom that we have to use the internet and share information will be lost if we continue to let big businesses throw their weight around. Sign petitions, call Representatives, find out more about it. I think this issue is huge and I'm kind of sad that I've only heard about this over the last couple of weeks.

This War

On September 11, like everyone else I was concerned and hurt by all the people that lost their lives. My first reaction, however was pretty skeptical. I guess you could say that I took a pessimistic stance. I didn't think that the event would pull us together as a country, yet on the contrary I was afraid that the reactionary people in power and the masses were going to call for a mass retaliation and that anger would overpower rational thinking. I was afraid that Muslims and those from Middle-Eastern countries would suffer a backlash of racial profiling and discrimination unnecessarily. For the most part I was fairly pleased to see that, in the first months after the attacks Americans responded with reasonable and united actions at those who appeared to truly be the responsible ones. I had been hearing of the atrocities committed by the Taliban in Afghanistan for sometime and was happy to see that the American government was going to do something about it, even though it took the loss of 3000 Americans to get them to pay attention.

I was shocked then, to find out in the early part of 2003 that the Bush administration had set it's sites on Iraq of all countries. It was such an about face in terms of focus that began wondering if we were even pursuing Bin Laden anymore. I still kind of wonder that. I didn't understand the fascination with taking down Saddam Hussein. Sure, he was a horrible dictator. Sure, he had committed atrocities against his own people and had invaded Kuwait in the early 1990s. This was a horrible leader who we could certainly do without. What I didn't understand was why, now when we were still trying to bring the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks, were we all of a sudden turning our attention to Saddam. Well, apparently they had Weapons of Mass Destruction. This term has become so incredibly mundane that it doesn't really mean anything anymore. Basically, Iraq had nukes and or biological weapons. But you know that. You know that because Colin Powell showed the whole world at the U.N. in those aerial photos indicating the mobile weapons labs. Rumsfeld told us he knew where they were. He told us exactly their location (a fact he has recently denied.) I never saw it, but who am I? My whole opinion at this time was I hope they know what they're doing, because I don't get it. I didn't feel threatened by Hussein, I didn't feel like we had a strong case for war, and I didn't see why we were all of a sudden bringing out this old issue of Iraq. It's as if we were the jock at the 10 year high school reunion that decided we needed to beat up on the nerd one last time. And this time he was really going to it. This time, he would never get to do science experiments ever again. Of course, this time he was weaker and less prepared and we were stronger and fortified with even better arms. Am I still talking about the Jock/Nerd scenario?

Anyway, the point was that I didn't get it. I even remarked to a co-worker once that I hoped they found WMDs because then we wouldn't seem like idiots to the rest of the world and ruin our good relationships with the countries that opposed our being there. Even if we really thought that Iraq was a threat, which I doubt, why would we risk international good will. If we truly believed what we were trying to spin I think we could have eventually convinced the rest of the world. I also didn't get the American's blind lemming-like behavior during this time. I sort of expected the Republicans to be excited about a regime takeover. Oil, a new market to inundate with Coca-cola and McDonald's restaurants, contracts, contracts, contracts. Couldn't we all see Dick Cheney's mouth watering. I was mostly disappointed, as I often am, with the Democrats, as well as the general public who consider themselves independent thinkers. This was really an example of the Emperor showing off his new clothes. Where was the child? Where was the innocent voice to cry out, "The Emperor's naked!" "There are no Weapons!" It never happened. Of course, what I'm leaving out here is that Bush and his boys were taking full advantage of the goodwill they'd been given over the course of rebuilding and recovering from New York. Our country was still on a unification binder and we like it. Who wanted to rock the boat by opposing the president. As for politicians, who wanted to lose re-election because they were "soft of terrorism," or "an America hater." Anyone against the war was automatically one of these. (Sean Hannity likes to use the phrase, "the Blame America First Crowd." I think this is a great way to describe people who are willing to look inside the U.S. first and evaluate what we did wrong, taking responsibility and not simply being blinded by "Patriotism" which is a misnomer anyway. The kind of "patriotism" these people practice is really "nationalism.")

Now, we have a situation where time has passed and the political left has found an opportunity to pounce on the shortcomings of the right, who was only doing everything they ever wanted but with full consent of the left. I never really bought into the whole "you duped us" routine, mainly because I, myself, was not duped. To anyone who was not willing to accept Bush's weak explanations for war and a sly "just trust us on this one" it seems pretty obvious that the administration just wanted a war, whether it be for revenge or oil. But, with the complete failure of the current operation to show any sign of a justifiable outcome we are now completely polarized. Did we do more harm than good? Should we get out as soon as possible? What is our mission there now, anyway? My opinions on this matter are this, respectively.

Of course we did more harm than good. The idea that we can force democracy down the throats of people is what has gotten us the reputation overseas as arrogant bullies. That and the tendency of Americans that their beer is warm in Germany and that the pizza is no good in Italy. Americanization may be great for businesses and may have gotten us all the envy of the country with the greatest wealth, but it's also given distinction of "infidel." That's a term used by Radical Islam, of course, but my loose understanding of the term can be applied to just about any anti-American sentiment. Europeans, Asians, and even Canadians consider our recent problems all a case of karma. We've overstayed our welcome, in other words, and it's time to reevaluate what makes a country great. Our presence in Iraq has only strengthened the resolve of those who were opposed to us because it is another example of why they were opposed to us in the first place. We can't overthrow any government who's leaders are unjust and oppressive. We'd never be finished. There's too many of them. Plus, many of our own political and economic allies are oppressive governments. For too long we've acted as if we are the only one's on this planet that matter and soon it's going to bite us in butt. Will Iraq ever become a bastion of freedom and democracy and peace for the Middle East. I hope so, but that's beside the point. There's no way to quantify whether it was worth it in terms of lives lost versus years of oppression and what the Iraqi government might have done. The fact of the matter is that we weren't asked to overturn the regime and we didn't have the right. As a country we should follow the golden rule.

Republican's like to call it "Cut and Run" because that emphasizes the impression that Democrats are cowards, which is, of course, bull. I think that Republicans want people to believe that Democrats would have us out of Iraq tomorrow. Some Democrats might, but my impression is that most Democrats want the goal to be to leave Iraq. That doesn't mean we leave today or next week. It means that we set a time table to truly allow the Iraqi government to lead and that we allow them to call the shots as to our presence there. Make it known that we plan to help them stabilize their government, but the ultimate goal is for us to leave it to them. Our continued presence there is only hurting the already shattered American image around the world.

The Bush Administration keeps saying that we can't leave until the job is finished. This is all I've ever heard from them. I don't think I've actually ever heard what "finished" would be. Maybe they have and I missed it, but it seems that Bush has an open ended mindset for our presence in Iraq. This makes absolutely no sense to me. We were there to find WMDs. Okay, not there. Well, no what we are really there to do is liberate the people there. Well, we got them liberated and they were happy until they realized that they were in greater danger than ever. Okay what now? No, I'm asking? What the hell are we doing now?

And I think that sums up my impression of the whole deal. That last sentence in the previous paragraph. There's no plan, there's no accountability, and there's no purpose anymore.

The cynic in me thinks that there is purpose and it is the same as it's always been. Oil. But, we haven't been able to really do anything about that yet, so Bush keeps telling us, "Stay the course." Something inside me tells me that when he says that what he's really saying is, "Don't worry. As soon as this thing blows over oil prices will go back down. Rummy and me got this one covered. Hee, hee, hee!"

New RFMR Entry

Check out my running blog called Run, Fat Man! Run!. I wrote some new stuff there.

The Future

In the past month I've posted three times. This, of course will not stand. My only complaint about the summertime without any obligations is that it breeds laziness. I have struggled my entire life with intrinsic motivation. I've always relied on the accountability of others to help me fullfill goals that I want to accomplish. This was true in school and is still true in my job. It keeps me going, for sure. But, when there is no accountability I am guilty of failure which explains my absense from blogging as of late.

I plan to correct this, as blogging has always been something I enjoyed and was kind of proud of keeping up. When I started it I half-way didn't expect to still be blogging a year and some change later. With the end of school and having been out of town every weekend since, I've found that I have a lot to write about but really don't know if I want to write about any of it. I sometimes find myself looking at what I've written and being bored myself. Perhaps I shouldn't care. Ideas have come to me but they usually end up seeming trite for some reason. But, here is a list of topics for upcoming blogs. I'm a list kind of guy. I suppose that I need them to separate what seems jumbled in my head. Something I can look at. Anyway, here it is.

1. Summer plans

2. What I've done so far this summer.

3. Screenplay

4. The war in Iraq

5. A constitutional ban on gay marriage.

6. The Astros

7. Getting in shape (this will be handled more on my other blog, "Run, Fat Man, Run!"

We won't be limited to this, but hopefully I'll get into a routine of some kind. First, I need to go to sleep before 4 a.m.

What's Happenin'?!

Wow. It's been a while. I really don't have a good explaination. I have been out of town a lot, but still. It's just been too long. Here it's summer now and I'm sure I'll have somethings to say. Afterall, without any creative outlet at work I'm bound to be writing a lot this summer. At least that's my plan.

So far this summer I've been to Dallas, Branson, Missouri and New Orleans. The Chocolate City was looking pretty good considering it suffered the worst natural disaster a major U.S. city has ever faced. It still has a lot of work to do, but as for their signiture creepiness and tourists' haven of decadence: still in tact. I'll probably write more later, but I needed to fill in this gap of silence with something. It was starting to bug me that I wasn't writing anything. Okay, that's all for now. I'm making French Onion Soup and watching the Astros Pregame. Let's hope they can turn this thing around. I blame myself. With all the travelling I haven't been spending enough time watching and sending my good vibes. Oh, don't underestimate my vibes. They are fairly powerful.