Do's and Don'ts of an Open Bar (from experience)

Don't.

Author of the Universe

“How awesome would it be to just sprint right up that building?” – subscriber to Maxim magazine

“Ch’yeah, that’d be bo wicked diesel….but I’d rather just fly.” – subscriber’s friend who borrows a lot

“No way, if we’re picking powers, I’m totally going with invisibility.” - subscriber

“Mind Control.” – friend

“Time travel.” – actual nerd, eavesdropping

(End of discussion)

That’s the breakdown of your standard super-hero power discussion-slash-argument. A random power comes up because some slack jawed yokel was looking around waiting for the short bus, then flying and invisibility go at it, sometimes a mildly better ability surfaces, and then the actual genius trumps everybody with time travel.

A brief aside for the nay-sayers: time-travel lets you edit anything you want. The Time Travel advocate has the easiest time defending himself by saying “oh really? In that case, I’ll just go back in time and stop you beforehand.” Not much that Superman or the Invisible Woman can do about Bill and Ted or Marty McFly.

The reason I bring this up is I discovered a time machine the other day. It allows me to continually rocket out of the past and into the future. I call it brain. I’m constantly speeding via the grey matter Delorean in my head. Every night I even skip 6-7 hours ~SNAP~ just like that. You have one too, but if you’re like most people – you don’t even realize you’re using it.

Don’t believe me? I'll live. I’m not Tinkerbell. Take a look around you. What do you see? A computer? Walls? An impossible cube? I’m sorry, none of you actually saw any of those things. What you saw was your perception of said things.

This is important.


I have a quote to emphasize my point.


“This is important.” - me

If you can break through the barrier that you’ve most likely assumed was there your whole life, you’ll realize that reality around you is completely malleable. Since you experience reality through your perception, “actual” reality’s basically irrelevant and quite possibly, might not even exist. Your perception is vastly more important. Through editing that perception, you can edit the real world.

Case and point – dreams. When you’re in a dream it “seems real” no matter how bizarre things may get. Running in slow motion no matter how much you push your legs? Wow that was close, the stalker almost got you! Falling off a cliff/bridge/building/airplane? I hope you wake-up before you hit the ground. Kool Aide crimping your style? You’re not dreaming on that last one.

When thinking about this, things start to get a little Gnarls Barkley. It’s unorthodox thinking, and it exists in this realm of disbelief and skepticism. To the cynics, realists, and pessimists out there, I ask you – since you’re making up your perception of reality, why did you choose one that sucks so bad? When you look at Himalayan monks with crazy biofeedback powers, or psychics that receive communications from the universe, why is the default position disbelief?

Hopefully someone will read this and understand what it’s about. There’s so much more about this that I could write. Seriously, start living your life instead your life living you.

-Ry

Get It?

Seriously...Are you serious?

Check the name of the blog. That’s what it’s actually about. The things that happen, that you just stand back and you’re like “are you serious” in response to. Good, bad, awe-inspired, excited, dejected, shocked, heart broken. Are you serious? I can’t believe that this is really life. I cannot fucking believe that this is life. Oh my god! I can’t believe that this is really life!! Whatever way you say it, whatever feeling boils up from inside and pushes those words from your lips, the purpose still remains the same. ARE YOU SERIOUS?

How many times do things that deviate from our expectations happen to us? The answer is always. And despite this truth, I still find myself in shock 90% of the time.

Sometimes I honestly want to go to a crowded coffee shop or a concert or an office building or wherever the hell people of “my generation” are nowadays (so I guess I should post a universal myspace bulletin) and scream into a megaphone “H0w many of you went to school and are doing nothing with your degree? How many of you have no fucking idea what to do with your lives? How many of you are lost, confused, have given up? How many of you are gonna enroll in graduate school cause there’s “nothing else to do”? How many of you are going to get married cause it “makes sense!?”” The whole virtual-stadium raises their hands and I’ll step back in awe despite the fact that I knew the answers and I’ll want to scream “Are you Serious?”

I mean honestly, what the hell is going on? I’ll find a quarter and actually get excited ‘cause I’m that damn broke. I consider going out to Chic Fil A a luxury. My friends have turned into an assortment of guys who are “nice enough” to still talk to me now that I’m in a relationship, girls who are generally using me for some reason or another, a best friend, Ryan and my parents. I wake up in the morning and my major checklist consists of: “how fat am I this morning”, “is my account overdrawn?”, “how freezing is my bedroom because I’m not allowed to have heat because I live in Drama Mansion” and “I can’t believe it’s already morning”. After quite a while I will finally somehow pep myself up and into the shower, promising myself that I can do my hair somehow cute, I can buy myself a coffee, or I can perhaps wear a cute outfit (provided my answer to the first question) and as I walk out the door maybe then I will feel like somehow something I’m doing is making a difference.

I mean, hello, there are people out there spending more time in a video-game world than they are in their real lives. They care more about their little troll's status than they do on how much they’re connected to their girlfriend, friends or families.

Are we all just living to the end here guys? The end of the work day? The end of the show? The end of the meal? To the time we can turn out the lights and go to sleep? What is going on?

Do you realize how many people don’t care or maybe don’t even bother to ask if they care if their lives have some kind of ultimate meaning? I had my own personal “are you serious” moment the other day when I figured out how much TV people watch. So many people are content to wake up, go to work in an office somewhere where everyone is in Corporate Mode and there is no such thing as genuine connection and then come home to a dinner on the sofa followed by four solid hours of “their shows” and then bed, only to do it all again and again and again. I have to be honest when I say that I just CANNOT understand that mentality…what the fuck is happening to your lives guys?

Sure, I enjoy laughing at an American Idol hopeful who belts out the national anthem in broken notes and forgets a line or two along the way but quite honestly I’m not going to be actually upset if I miss it. I don’t plan my life around FOX’s schedule.

Literally, I go out for dinner with my parents once a week and my dad updates me on his favorite shows. Are you serious, dad? This is what we talk about?

I don’t know, I’m sick of counting my change, I’m tired of constantly being shocked by reality. How come nothing is turning out the way it was supposed to when I was little? Where people think about what they want to do with their lives, work really hard to make some kind of impact on their world, their family, their personal little space on Earth and then at least find some contentment?

Instead, we’re all being force-fed contentment in the form of a cliffhanger on a 10:00PM sitcom about people on an island which of course I find ironic because it is for reasons like that which I believe most of us have Lost our own sense of reality, of obligation to ourselves. Cause for real man, I seriously sometimes look around and I actually cant believe that this is really life.


I keep a notebook with me most of the time. This comes from the pages of that…it doesn’t pretend to be deep or poetic or anything…it just is:

Is this really life?

These are the “men I’ve been with”?
These are the “best days of my life”?

Those were the “unforgettable nights”?
And I am the “young and vibrant woman”?

This is the “party lifestyle”?
These are my “roommates”?
And this is “City Life”?

This is really life?

Where living my dream means that
living is a dream.

Where I count my change
And no one changes

This is really life
This
This
This
This
This
This...

- Rhian

Did: The Philadelphia Museum of Art

Rhian and I went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art on Sunday (it's free on Sundays, which rocks). There was no Rocky-esque running of the stairs, however there was some parking 3 minutes away and roughing it through the cold. I laughed in Mother Nature's face to spite the zero-degree weather, and she responded in kind: slamming us with harsh knife-like wind. Scoffing stifled; we blitzed to the revolving door and quickly slipped inside. It’s a shame really. The outside of the building is where the fantastic experience begins.



There's something about the Philadelphia Museum of Art that takes me back into a comfort zone. Looking at all those wondrous pieces of artwork and the ancient artifacts makes the stupid things I worry about on a daily basis seem silly. I saw Monet's Rain, and was instantly thrust into the countryside amidst downpour. There were pictures of old cobblestone streets, amazing ships, eerie twilight carnival nights, and bridges covered in ethereal London Fog.

Rhian and I wandered through some European art and then Modern art collections first. Every room had several pieces that I was drawn to. I just can’t explain the feeling. The environment of the Museum is very peaceful and reflective. They've created this atmosphere where you can safely examine these pieces without feeling like you're in a crowd, despite several other people in the room.


I felt important as I walked around on the hard marble floor. It's strangely empowering, and as a half-nerd I was immediately drawn to the arms and armor section (my favorite place from when I was younger). We reached the pinnacle of our aesthetic journey: The Weapons and Armor Exhibit. I was left with just as much awe as I remembered feeling. Nothing new has changed here, and it's comforting. Each weapon, shield, and piece of armor is on display in the memory bank of my mind. Walking through my mind and the museum simultaneously resurrected the feeling of unbound curiosity and amazement.

If you have a chance to go to the Philadelphia Art Museum, I strongly urge you to take advantage of it. At the very least it's a rare calming and humbling experience that provides priceless life perspective. There's no other feeling similar, and for me personally, it will always be a passageway to my inner child.


-Ryan

Quick Cool Stuff: Squirrels

Squirrels. We’ve all seen them – those fuzzy little rats with big poofy tails. They scamper around our trees lovingly hurling nuts and tree branches at our heads. Nature’s Hugh Grant, they can do no wrong. I went ahead and compiled some facts about our hairy companions, and it should answer all the burning questions you have – and maybe even whet your thought appetite.

• Squirrels are the most active in late winter (‘cause that’s when all the bitches and ho’s come out…really, go look it up).
  
  
• A female squirrel will choose the strongest male during mating season (see above), but, just like Beyoncé, is unlikely to breed with that male again…"never get to thinking you're irreplaceable."
  
  
• Squirrels die for a variety of reasons, usually a natural death occurs while the squirrel is hiding or in its nest. The body may by removed by a predator, or it may simply decay before it is found. An unnatural death occurs whenever Joojubba, the Squirrel goddess, recalls her one of her minions.
  
  
  
  
• “During winter storms, or severe cold, the squirrel may not leave the nest for days. But, the tree squirrel does not hibernate!” (Oh snap!)
  
  
• “Gray squirrels come in many colors.” – a stubborn scientist
  
  
• Baby squirrels are born in the spring, without fur. They're blind, and weigh in at one or two ounces each. There are usually four in a liter. The mother will keep the young in the nest and nurse them until they're ready to venture out of the nest, on their own. This is usually in eight to ten weeks. You may see a mother squirrel move her babies, she will carry them by mouth, one at a time (this one was just cool).

For more squirrelly info check out these links (where I got this stuff):
Squirrels.org
Wikipedia

-Ryan

How To Spot a Creep (or how to tell if you are one)

Girls know what I’m talking about – you’re invited to your friend’s house one night, they’re having some new people over that they want you to meet. You arrive and are greeted by a couple: Jeff and Julie. You smile politely and extend your hand upon introduction. Julie is friendly and smiles back at you and then returns to the conversation she was having with the hostess. Jeff’s handshake lingers a little too long however and his eyes fall a little lower than your mouth when you are speaking your name. You have encountered a creep.

Creeps are everywhere and for single women, taken women, married women, lesbian women, and any other kind of woman there is, it’s all the same. We are never safe from their oogling eyes, their snickering, creepy laughs and their shameless excuses to put their hands on the smalls of our backs.

Recently I met a creep who, in front of his wife, made several comments about other women’s breasts and what it must be like to sleep with them (the women, not the breasts…though I’m sure if he’d thought of it, it would’ve been both). He then saw me pretend to eat a lollipop as part of a board game we were playing and heartily exclaimed “I know I just met you but I’m definitely going to be saving that image for later, if you know what I mean!” Ryan stared him down but it was too late, the creepiness had permeated the atmosphere.

Creeps. The guys who slither up aside you when you’re dancing in the club. The men who find excuses to trap you alone in a room to talk to you about their new computer/job/real estate deal/car when in reality you both know that he just wants to breath on you and check out your ass as you reach into the fridge to get out a beer. Guys who make uncomfortable sexual comments amidst regular conversation and grin at you afterwards, as if you’re somehow supposed to think it’s funny or cute or god knows what else.

I have encountered Creeps of all status, ages and social situations. A creep doesn’t care if he is making you or everyone else uncomfortable – he wants to feel out the situation, he wants to crack “jokes” with implicating eyes and a hint of seriousness that literally makes you want to run from the room (or hop into the shower). Creeps stand too close and breathe too heavily. They touch you too much or at least have the vibe that there is “meaning” behind it when they place their hand on your arm as they move by you in a crowd.

Now don’t get me wrong, I do not assume that any man who talks to me, who makes a joke or who allows his eyes to wander a bit is a creep – this is not a blanket statement, not all guys who have a sense of humor or who touch me are creepy. There is quite a difference between a man who is flirtatious and one who is a creep. Creeps have a deep, sneaky and shady intent. When around them, you feel as if they are plotting something, they’re not really participating in conversations and every exchange seems as if it is somehow on a checklist of creepiness towards reaching some nauseating ultimate goal (undoubtedly a disturbing sexual fantasy involving mice and parkas (seriously this is the vibe you get from them)).



his eyes pretty much sum up "the look"

So men, if you are doing things with a seedy intent, don’t fool yourselves – we know. Knock the dark, underhanded thoughts from your mind, stop trying to glance down my shirt or reach over to pluck a piece of invisible lint off of my sweater. Excuse yourself, take care of your problem and join the realm of normalcy where you don’t cause a creepy shudder to trickle down the spine of all the women present every time you step into the room.

Kthxbye.

♥ Rhian