Random Acts of Awesome

I was reading an article about a young Chinese American man who's memoirs got bought by a major network and turned into a show. He was very matter of fact about the racism and fear that changed his story into something palatable to the US audience. But you could hear the desperation and anger behind his words. He'd become famous, at the expense of everything he held to be true. People loved the story they were fed, not his story. It was, honestly, extremely sad, though he wrote it in a biting, wonderfully sarcastic tone. It made me wonder anybody would want to be famous in this society. Anybody with an actual story to tell, at least. You can't be famous in this world unless you're thoroughly processed through the filter of media. And media has a vested interest in maintaining the level of stupid. Because stupid is cheap, and fast, and sells. Stupid is the fast food of the entertainment world, and the media that makes you famous also must make you stupid. They'...

I have been travelling almost constantly since June of last year. I get a little shiver of happiness down my spine whenever I say that to myself... I think I can (relatively) confidently say that I am running towards something, not away from something. It's an idea that's been bothering me, the thought that I might be blindly running away from responsibility and fear. Running blindly pretty much always leads to stumbling and hurting yourself. So, I wanted to be sure I was running while looking ahead. It feels like I am. Every new experience is eagerly grasped, processed, and then gently set aside to make room for the next one. I'm not looking behind me, I'm constantly scanning my horizon for whatever it is I'm looking for. Still haven't exactly figured that part out yet, but I will. In Montana, I was hard pressed to do any thinking. I was so constantly busy and stressed and physically active. And it was perfect. I was dragged, kicking and screaming, outsid...

It fascinates me, to think about how the human consciousness is being shaped by the volume of, and type of, information we now have available to us. I started thinking about it this morning, reading a blurb on a friend's Facebook page, about a woman struggling with the question of childcare and women's rights in today's workplace. I don't have a child. And I've never had to worry about what this woman is worried about. But I found myself empathizing with her, deeply caught up in her tale of woe. And, most importantly, my visceral reaction of sympathy for her was accompanied by an equally visceral, but vague, anger at those who would harm her. It got me.thinking about how we learn. Humans have always learned through stories. Our ability to create metaphor, to empathize, helped shape us into the juggernauts we are today. Storytelling, and storylearning, is an incredibly powerful tool in our arsenal of growth. So when I read these stories, when I empathize with ...

I had a very funny, very short conversation with a dude at a bar last night. I was at Baileys, celebrating a friends wedding. I was in full on introvert forced to be extroverted mode, and rather overwhelmed with it, so I kept making excuses to get up and get away from the group I was with. During one of those gasping for air forays, I saw an old acquaintance at the bar. He is someone who I've talked to numerous times, and always had great conversational chemistry with. He's also one of those people who you'll never know if they'd be good in bed because you'll never go to bed with them and that drives you a little crazy and makes them seem like they're going to be better in bed than they probably are. We're curious about each other, but he's got a girlfriend and he's not a dick, so... Anyways, he waved when he saw me, and I went over to say hi. We chatted a bit about how things were for both of us, and he asked me how my travels had been going. I sa...

I am in Tucson, Arizona right now. Sitting in a wealthy persons beautiful kitchen, listening to John Denver sing about a reason to try. I am surrounded by desert. Big, beautiful, terrifying desert, with cactus soaring 20 ft above me, hundreds of years old. I am walking someone elses chihuahua, milking someone elses goats, feeding their chickens. Sleeping in their bed. A part of me loves it. And a part of me thinks it's a very lonely sort of existence, and isn't sure we want to do this long term. Someone elses home, no matter how beautiful, is not my home. And I want a home. But more than I want a home, I want to be healthy enough to create a home. I want a home crafted from my heart and head, my happy, healthy, and whole heart and head. So, in order to find a home, I am on the road to fixing a few things. I hate that term. Fixing things. Like I'm a machine with missing and broken parts. It feels true, though. Regardless of what else I am, first and foremost I am a ...

The problem with having a hard (extremely hard) time being vulnerable is that, when you finally let yourself be vulnerable, you all too often choose the wrong person to be witness to it. Because you hate being vulnerable, so you choose people who you kind of know aren't really "worthy" of your vulnerability. They're not going to process it the way you need them to. They're going to be too self centered to take it in and let it change their opinion of you. They're probably going to love the fact that you opened up to them, because it validates their view of themselves as a wonderful human being. And they're going to appreciate your weakness more than your strength. And all of that? You know it's your own damn fault. Because you choose not to deeply connect to people who are better than that. Because you don't want being vulnerable to become something healthy. You want to be validated in your fear and your shame. So you choose people who, even with...

I have an interesting relationship with symbols. I attribute much power to symbols, regardless of whether they originate solely in the human mind or not. For instance, this morning I did a tarot reading for myself. In fact, I did 3 of them. And came away with a strong sense of comfort and warmth. And knowledge, coalesced into useful, tangible meaning. The symbols on the cards, the paintings and general meaning of them, are just geometric shapes and concepts. They're just words and ideas, not mystical portals to another world. But what are words and ideas, if not power incarnate? The questions I asked I asked of myself. And the meanings I pulled from each card are meanings that I pull specifics from for my own benefit. But that doesn't mean that I don't feel a pull when I lay out my cards. It doesn't mean that each card isn't set down with a purpose, pulled from a random selection for a reason. I don't know what that pull is. I don't know if it comes f...