Valid as much here as anywhere

Thank God for the Internet - perhaps the last bastion for free speech.

Growing past 32

I've always felt as if 32 was a comfortable age for me. It seemed my whole sophomore existence was a painful stretch to that particular age, while every year since has been I constant reminder that I have to move on.

However; many, many years later, I still feel 32.

Today - I sit in meetings, and speak. I'm in awe that people actually listen. I feel like someone who sounds like me is throwing his voice from my seat; that like a ventriloquists dummy, someone else is pulling the strings; my take is simply to be there and breathe. I am stunned that the obvious things I say can set others writing furiously on their note pads. I wonder what they write? I wonder what goes through their heads while I'm winging it.

Something happened, and here we all are; traveling through time at the speed of life. Some on their way to their 32, others trying like hell to hold on to something real.

Being grown up should mean having more answers. Being grown up should give you an inner calm, an inner peace. Instead my aching left knee has started clicking and my once dislocated right thumb cant hold my drum stick properly. I'm confronted, and confused by the myriad of optional paths to take. Some days I feel I should have many more answers, when all I can offer is a hug. 'Though in fairness - the hugs have come to mean a lot.

If being grown up means knowing you don't have all the answers, perhaps being older still will bring with it the realization we know nothing. That, and the only way through this is with each other, and perhaps a fair amount of denial.

Maybe the important thing is when push comes to shove, you'll be prepared to wing it. Come along with me - It could be one hell of a ride.

How Jed got stoned.

It's no secret that a friend is someone who lets you help [1].

There's a certain irony at play here. I love to help, but hate being helped.
I'd been looking forward to staying with Niamh and Andrew, but soon after stepping off the plane I realised my weekend away was going to be difficult for me.

You see - They were the perfect hosts.

They let me sleep in, they took me fishing. In the evening before the sun set Niamh and I would take Jed for a walk, throwing his ball; laughing as he bounded down the bush and scrub with a mix of dogged determination and lack of self preservation.

I even got to do real guy stuff with Andrew when we rebuilt his KTM's water pump (twice).

They cooked, made pizzas, muffins, and margaritas. They wouldn't let me do a.god.damn.thing.

It was cruel and unusual punishment.

I may have shared my stash with Jed in a fit of desperation.


Well - I felt better afterward :)

Here's one I prepared earlier

Life is too short to be a difficult prick. It takes so much energy to deny the obvious. It seems odd to spend so much energy avoiding things to do, and make things harder for everyone else.

Yet so many persist.



This post is dedicated to a PM, who has the unenviable task of working with one of my more difficult workmates. Why she chooses to throw herself on this particular grenade on a daily basis is a source of wonder to the rest of us. I'm thinking eventually she will simply come to her senses and headbutt him.

Meanwhile we can only hope by then she'll have her technique up to scratch, and wont end up with a black eye this time.

:)

Must be the money

I'm not sure I'm coping with the 28 million dollar loss.

I'd hate to see the world I love come to nothing but a set of cold calculated odds, chance, and McDonald's weddings; a world where concepts of good things happening to good people, happy endings, and good luck isn't solely left to a frame of celluloid runing through a projector at 24 frames a second.

I know all good things some through hard work and talent - but for me it's equally important to have something external slightly influencing this all. Pushing every now and again, this way and that - all for the greater good.

I have to believe in the chaos of our universe. That there is a plan.

And for me now, maybe it doesn't involve 28 million dollars, but a guitar instead. :)

You are not your car keys

While I love this arrangement so much on one level, I cant help but feel it's a damning indictment on our inability to stay not grown up.

I weep for those who have lost their inner child.
I stamp my feet and temper tantrum!

Red wine on a School Day

I miss the smart conversations. Surrounded by smart people, as I am, this comment may at first seem erroneous, until you dig a little deeper.

Anyone can talk about stuff - I love the twist and turns, the wit, and most importantly the humour of a great conversation. In those moments innocent comments deliberately misconstrued can bring on a wry smile and and embarrassed glance at your feet in a crowed lift. While you struggle for a rebound, you suddenly realize you have to bring your "A game" to this party.

I loved my lunch with soon to be Mrs "Apprentice Princess PM" today. The cobwebs in the nether parts of my brain blown asunder, I settled into conversations that seemed to cover too many subjects in such a small moment in time.

Long may these lunches continue - but not before some mental calisthenics beforehand.

My brain needs me some bending!

Epitaph One

One of my favorite pieces from the end of the first season of Dollhouse.

Feeling old today.

If horses were wishes we'd be all eating steaks. :)

I want to see what people saw
I want to feel like I felt before
I'd like to see the kingdom come
I want to feel forever young

Paul Henry

Aaron Sorkin wrote..

"You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then, you can stand up and sing about the "land of the free".

Although this is an idealistic approach to the concept of free speech - the important thing to note here, is that you cant have it both ways.
Holocaust Deniers, Nazi's, Fascists, Communists and their rhetoric must see the light of day, lest our voices be silenced as well.

During the McCarthy era, Arthur Miller may have testified again fellow playwrights in the House Un-American Activites Committee, but his experiences of testifying resulted in his play around the Salem witch trials: The Crucible. In the 1930's many innocent Americans were blacklisted, simply because of their political beliefs. The hardships endured by being tarnished a communist were not bourne just by the accused, but those who associated or helped them survive as well.

Many may think we have come a long way since those times, but it is important to remember that if everyone who tells you how to think, is removing a key human right.

We all have a right to take in our world, and decide our own beliefs. These beliefs will be tempered by our friends and surroundings. Our logic may be flawed, and we may often be wrong, and we may change our minds as we walk through our lives. The important fact is - these ideas develop from our freedom of thought. It is important not to sign away this right simply because we don't like what we are hearing from those around us.

As soon as we lose the right to say what we want, we simply become what someone else wants us to be - then all is truly lost. You may not agree with me, but at least you have a choice.

Good night - and good luck Paul Henry.

Not enough of the Perfect

I wonder if it's too much to expect perfection.
If you look too closely, you'll always see blemishes.

Even if an acceptance that everything is fundamentally flawed may keep you sane, there's a strange perverse pleasure, in finding something that's perfect.
Even for an instant.

Would the knowledge that such a thing existed, make life worth living?

I hope so.