Thursday, February 22, 2007
Author of the Universe
“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
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
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Seriously...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
Friday, February 9, 2007
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
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
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
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
How To Spot a Creep (or how to tell if you are one)
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
Whale-a-phobia: the Rational Fear
Whales are fucking scary as shit – and I’m not talking about those obvious “Killer” Whales either. Sperm Whales, Whale Sharks, Blue Whales – they’re all dangerous. You ever seen a blue whale? You ever see a blue whale with your face? Those dudes are huge! A baby blue whale is at least a mile long when it’s in the womb. Go ahead and try to tell me that if you woke up and a slimy leviathan was in your bed you wouldn’t have a heart attack. Try and call the SPCA. You know what they’re going to tell you? “Oh my god, get the f out of your bed!”
Whales will mess you up without even blinking. If you disagree, you’ve clearly never been victim of a whale-crime. From tail-slapping, swim-by blow-holing, and supporting Republicans, whales are nothing but enormous menaces. Obviously, then, the question becomes, how do we protect ourselves against these ludicrously large demon-beasts of the depths?
Solution #1: Resurrect Andre the Giant
It’s a well-known fact that Andre the Giant was the largest land mammal of his time. Maybe a whale could recover from a standard elbow drop. It’s even possible that Andre would need to use the tombstone piledriver more than once. But there’s no way a whale could withstand Zombie-Andre’s double underhook suplex. I mean, come on. The only problem with this idea is I don’t own the copyrights to the Necronomicon.
Solution #2: Large Logs
If Battle Beasts taught me anything when I was 3 years old, it’s that Fire beats Wood, Water beats Fire, and lo and behold - Wood beats Water. Ding-ding boys and girls, I think we have a winner. The toughest part would be of course transporting the huge logs. I suppose we could always get Zombie-Andre the Giant to do that, but that’s like using a kryptonite robot to shoot Superman with a gun.
Solution #3: Martian Space Colony
If all else fails, there’s really only one weakness that remains in our underwater nemeses. Whales breathe oxygen. This means they can’t swim in outer space. While they may be able to reach the stratosphere, they’ll be so out of breathe by the time they hit the moon that there’s no chance of making it to Mars. Space whales, of course, are the lone exception to this rule.
They're watching us
Hopefully this has been an informational Public Service Announcement. I know I learned a lot. It can’t compete with the usefulness of So, You Have Face-Syphilis Again but then, what PSA can?
-Ryan
Monday, January 29, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
An Idiot's Guide to Being a Genius
Classic Signs you’re a moron:
You classify yourself as “indie.” You smartasses do realize that independent only has one “I” in it, right? Nice abbreviation, genius. By the way, you can’t all be independent. Basically what happened was you didn’t do laundry one day so you decided to open up that hope-chest of your mom’s and put on a cardigan. Nice work.
You wear socks with your sandals. This isn’t a big one right now, because it’s winter time, but you closet sock and sandal people know who you are. Real smart idea, buddy – if your feet are that cold, just wear shoes. Are you going to the beach in that amazingly fashionable footwear? Fear not, the socks are removable!
You think that movie quotes can take place of actual conversation answers. ...another telltale sign of the pseudo-genius. Movie quotes do not count as responses to a question, nor can they be used to comment on a situation. If you’re quoting a movie, I’ve got another newsflash for you: You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else...
Unlike a rubix cube, there is a solution to this problem of being a moron – become a genius. Much like any idiot, a true genius is easy to spot.
The marks of a true genius:
Monocle: A real genius is so smart that they don’t have time to look at things with both eyes. I’ve got my seein’ eye, and my readin’ eye. Looking at one thing with two eyes is a waste of my genius-time.
Top Hat: Top “Hat” is the laymen’s term. It’s actually a brain warming and housing device. A moron’s head is much colder and functions so much slower. Case and point: Ice Fishing. The lake is frozen. The fish are dead. What are you doing?
Cane: Once again, geniuses are leagues beyond the normal-folk. How many steps did you take today? I bet your legs are killing you. You think you’re so smart? Then how come you’re walking around on both legs like a sucker, instead of three legs like a master?
It seems simple enough, but then again, most things to morons seem simple. Trust me, get yourself a those three things and you’ll be well on your way. I’ll even tip my hat off to you.
-Ryan
Saturday, January 20, 2007
First and Foremost
Bucks County Coffee Company – INT. Day
A girl and a guy sit chatting at a table in a crowded coffee shop in Philadelphia.
GIRL
Yeah and then he put on his pirate costume and opened the window and said he was going to jump out of it – two stories up!
GUY
Are you fuckin’ kidding me?
GIRL
Nope, because then he opened the window and he fucking did jump out of it! It was awesome!
GUY
(laughs in amazement)
Are you serious???
At the next table over, two good friends are sitting by the window each drinking a steaming coffee.
FRIEND ONE
So things just keep getting weirder and weirder
FRIEND TWO
Why does that not surprise me?
FRIEND ONE
Not only did I get bit by a dog in the middle of the sidewalk outside that bar, then my bosses didn’t pay me what they said they would and then I got home and my exboyfriend called and said he was getting married tomorrow morning
FRIEND TWO
Are you serious???
A guy is animatedly telling a story to his friend on his way out the door
GUY
Yea, so we’re both asleep after getting it on, she’s wearing only a tank top, I’m naked and then all the sudden her best friend and like five other people walk into her room out of nowhere
FRIEND
Haha no way dude
GUY
Yeah, for real. No one is even supposed to know we’re hooking up though! I panicked and threw a blanket over my head.
FRIEND
Haha smooth
GUY
Yeah well I don’t think they realized it, some guy stood there talking to her for like five minutes
FRIEND
Are you serious???
Rhian and Ryan look at each other as they approach the counter after making their way through the shop.
SIMULTANEOUS
I can’t believe this is really life.
But this is real life, my friends. Documented, unfiltered, unabashed, and with nothing held back. We come to these virtual pages with the intention to record and set down our experiences exactly as they happen, exactly as we perceive them and exactly how we live them.
Our hopes in writing this blog are simply to capture the trials, perceptions, mishaps and misjudgments of life as we lead it. We are just two regular twenty-somethings, living in Philadelphia and hoping to somehow figure out how to make it. We have virtually nothing that’s our own, we’re poor, we’re confused, we’re in debt and we’re in love with life (and each other…most of the time).
So welcome to “Are you serious!? I can’t believe this is really life.” And truthfully, we can’t believe it either.
- R&R