random thoughts

No sharing allowed!

| Chris

They’re probably just having a rough day. Or something.

I have to assure myself, with a somewhat logical reason, why some people seem to be acting like I’m their worst enemy. What did I do to them? I thought. Looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever had an issue with anyone giving me bad customer service. Oh, heck yeah, it always annoys the daylights out of me. However, I do not react. Ever. At least, not outwardly. And, especially, NOT in a restaurant situation. Oooh, that’s a no no!!!

Still and all, I had an interesting encounter with an older woman (think Church Lady from SNL), who served at an Italian restaurant in Atlanta. This was an experience I had years ago, while my then girlfriend and I were on a date, one night. For reasons I can only speculate, this lady seemed unhappy to do her job at that moment. Hopefully, it was just a bad timing. But for the most part, she was exceptionally rude and cranky. She talked over us while we were discussing what to order. She was rough-handed in setting the plates on our table. And you should’ve seen the look on her face. Priceless!

Despite all the creepiness, the one thing that kept me laughing to this day was, when she spotted us from a distance, sharing our food. Oh my! As if she had intended to find fault, and see us through our misery via her brand of punishment. She marched towards our table and spoke with an indignant tone in her voice.

“NO SHARING ALLOWED!” “But, isn’t it…” “I said, no sharing allowed!” “Well, how about…” “There’s a six dollar fee for sharing your food!” “Okay, fine but..” “Six dollars, do you want it?” YES! Already! Geez!

The thing of it is, that we were aware the food we ordered didn’t cost that much more than six bucks, anyway. We could’ve just ordered another plate, and it would’ve been more cost-effective. Yet, it was such a stupid situation, it just didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t about to allow it to steal anymore time from my date than it already had, at that point. So, we just laughed it off, and had a burger somewhere, later that night.

Anyhow, I was going through some Mitchell and Webb skits on Youtube last night and I happened upon this particular bit, called Bad Waiter. It instantly reminded me of my own experience that night. Now, this skit may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s really not that much further from the real story. It’s so funny, it’s not even funny. If that makes any sense.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

More English words, Australian style

| Chris

My vocabulary is much more robust today than it was three posts ago. Thanks to the folks down under!

I think, these are all nominees for the Word of the Year Award, as well.

Tanorexia – the result of too much suntan
Arse Antlers – tattoo in that fashionable area above the buttocks
Butt Bra – the kind that raises the profile of the buttocks to go with your arse antlers
Manscaping – refers to removal of body hair for men; sometimes tied to the female preoccupation with the Lady Garden, or pubic zone
Infomania – for those who constantly put aside the job at hand to concentrate on incoming email and text messages
Password Fatigue – frustration from having too many passwords to recall
Floordrobe – someone’s clothes spread around the house, clean or otherwise
Credit Card Tart – someone who shifts loans around from one credit card to pay for another
Glass Cliff – refers to people placed in jobs with high risk of failure because they belong to a group not well represented in leadership positions, such as women
Chindia – joining China and India in terms of their fast growing strategic and economic clout in the world
Great Firewall of China – refers to the block preventing Chinese internet users from accessing online sites deemed undesirable by the Chinese government. To get around it may take a Cyberathlete, or professional computer game player
Climate Canary – refers to a geographical feature, plant or animal species pointing to climate change
Toad Juice – refers to a liquid fertilizer produced in Australia from pulverized cane toads, an introduced environmental pest marching its way across the continent

Think I’m making these up? Read the news! Now, make up your own word, and vote for it.

Oh yeah, I know a little Aussie word myself…. Foster’s. 🙂 Cheers, mate!

Do you like yourself much?

| Chris

A conversation with a cynical person is like pulling teeth sometimes. It’s like… okay, somebody shoot me now! At least, that’s my experience. Oftentimes, I wonder why I even try, in the first place. Maybe, it’s the Lennon in me that wants to convince the person to, at least, give peace a chance. But then, in turn, my own peace starts to go for a train ride into helter-skelterville. Not good.

I don’t mean to be insensitive. I have known many pessimists who have lived most of their lives in less than favorable surroundings in the company of, uh, well… party poopers, if you will. It makes me sad that they’re unable to think positively. Not even for themselves, in the least. And, I just don’t know how to deal with them. Much like, I can’t be a positive influence to an alcoholic since I’ve never been one. I just don’t have the credibility.

I knew someone who ran away from home and stopped going to school out of rebellion towards his parents. “I’ll show them,” he must’ve though. Now, I know, there were times during my school days when life seemed to just suck all the time. Didn’t we all, though? But, I guess, I felt lucky to have always fought to see the bigger picture. Sure, I can run away. It’ll make me feel better. I can even indulge myself in drugs or alcohol, to prove a point. But, prove to whom? I mean, isn’t this my life? If I successfully proved something to someone, would it make me a better person? Would I be any different? I believe, the only thing that would benefit here is my ego. Either way, guess who the loser in the end is?

Although, I have compassion for them, it’s unfortunate to see some people hate themselves for whatever reason. My ex-wife couldn’t bear to look in the mirror without having to whisper some sarcastic remark about herself. She couldn’t understand that it brings me down, for her to do this. I mean, didn’t I marry her, after all? I was proud to have her as my wife. And for her to insult herself, is to insult me. As if she’s saying, I didn’t have good taste, or something. I know, it’s complicated and all. Like I said, I just don’t have the credibility. I don’t know how to continuously absorb negative energy as I go on about my day everyday. I guess, one gets used to it, somehow. Like the song says, you become comfortably numb.

I had an interesting conversation with my dad years ago when he visited me in California. We were talking about raising kids, for some reason. Hmmm, raising me? Now, just the thought of that alone, has got to be like pulling teeth! Anyhow, I remember spewing out some high falutin’ philosophy on being an ideal parent (oh sure, like I’ve been there and done that). But I think, I was able to get my point across, well enough to make him nod in affirmation. And, that’s a great accomplishment, in my book. I think, I said that parents should only instill their ways into a child’s life, if they can honestly say, they like who they are. Like, they’re comfortable in their own skin. As in, wishing others would be just like them. As in, being an example to their own selves. Otherwise, they might as well just throw their kids out to the wolves, and have them learn to survive on their own. Or, more significantly, why have them, in the first place? I asked my dad that question, and he was speechless. He knew, he was the last person on earth he wanted anybody to be like. Now, I’m not talking about morals here. Obviously, that would just defeat the purpose. I’m talking about vulnerability. Sobriety. Humility. Coming to terms with the truth. Being brave enough to face your past, and have everyone take a peek at it, as well. Sometimes, confidence and craziness are one and the same. If only, because it’s how we’ve always equated the two, in our lives.

insecurityI don’t know of any other way to heal instantly, than this way. How many times have we seen parents hide their past from their kids, only to have the truth backfire on them, at some point. I have seen this kind of devastation, one too many times. And, what’s worse, is that the kids, whose lives are still ahead of them, are now shattered. Possibly, for the rest of their lives.

This experience is what makes children grow up, afraid to look in the mirror. Afraid to be alone. Afraid to be rejected. Afraid to be wrong. Who dares to be wrong? Anyone? Their examples are being shaped by society, instead of in the home. And, can anybody honestly say, today’s society is ideal? No, but what else have we got, right? We keep up with the Joneses, and we dance the dance. We’re careful to be politically correct. If not, we’re plain weird. Hence, the feeling of rejection and abandonment comes into play. How many single people would actually go to a party or some special event without a date and not feel awkward? How many would be confident enough to stand in a corner alone, while everyone else hurries to find someone to talk to for fear of looking odd? How many dares to eat alone? Eat out alone?

By the way, how much do you like yourself?

Insecurity is the oldest religion, in my opinion. And every one of us bows down in sheer idolatry, at some point in our lives (if not throughout), to the god of fear and shame. And, unless we brave the deep waters of vulnerability and humility, I’m afraid, we can never expect to like ourselves much.

And if that’s your case, just don’t expect anyone to like you much, either.

You eated my cookies and hurted my feelings

| Chris

Waaaaah!I swear, I heard one of the kids down the street say these words before.

Sup with the schooling system, yo? That ain’t what MC Hammer would call “Proper.” Have we finally upgraded to English 2.0 without my knowledge? Since, back in the day, we didn’t have grammar and spell checkers, we were forced to learn things the old-fashioned way. By memory. Could it be that technology have been spoiling us rotten for awhile now? I remember being able to multiply and divide by hand. I’m afraid it’s a lot more convenient to hit the calculator icon these days, than to grab the pen and piece of paper in front of me.

However, while some people still need to play catch-up on learning basic language skills, I’m afraid, in this day and age, we all have to somehow do so, as well. Though, in some other way. I don’t know about you, but the English dictionary seems to be getting thicker and thicker on a daily basis. Albeit, unofficially.

I mean, since when did the word “favorite” become a verb? (Did I just hear someone mention “Googled?”) Technorati would say… Your blog has been favorited five times. Good luck convincing your spell checker to pass that one. And, it just doesn’t roll nicely on the tongue, either. Admit it!

By the way, I found the following list from the American Dialect Society after having read the news yesterday announcing “Subprime” as official word of the year 2007. These words are just a small sample from an extensive list that goes all the way back to 1990.

2007
Subprime – an adjective used to describe a risky or less than ideal loan, mortgage, or investment.
Googlegänger – A person with your name who shows up when you google yourself.
Texter – a person who sends text messages.
Billary/Hill-Bill – Bill and Hillary Clinton
Quadriboobage – The appearance of having four breasts caused by wearing a brassiere that is too small.

2006
Plutoed – to be demoted or devalued (This is just cruel, I think. Call me sentimental but I love and miss my Pluto!)
Brokeback – of questionable masculinity; insufficiently heteronormative.
Pornament – a Christmas ornament of the adult kind.

2005
Truthiness – the quality of stating concepts or facts one wishes or believes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true.
Flee-ancée – in reference to runaway bride Jennifer Wilbanks.

It’s also interesting to find these out:

Word of the decade (90’s) – Web
Word of the century (20th) – Jazz
Word of the millennium (past one, I’m guessing) – She

There you go. I hope you were entertained, somehow.

Oh, and if you’re wondering what your emo boy just blurted out on the celly while wafflin’ with his G, here’s a fun place to find out. Now, that’s sick, brah.

Faster than the speed of life

| Chris

My mom had a huge family. If I’m not mistaken, originally, there were 15 siblings, all in all. I’m not kidding, our Christmas parties in the 70’s used to be bigger than the entire neighborhood itself. And, I had fond memories of those days.

Today, only four of them are left. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to God for keeping my mom, not only alive, but very well, to this day. Her family history isn’t exactly what I would call pleasant. In fact, it is extremely tragic, in my opinion. I believe, two of her siblings died from birth; another two would die unexpectedly at different times; one would be kidnapped, never to be seen again; and, still another one would be murdered in his sleep.

Sometimes, I feel for my mom. It’s not her fault. But what a waste of life, I thought.

Today, I thought of one of her brothers. An uncle of mine whom I’ve only known from a distance. We were never close, for some reason. However, he was one whom I thought had started out with an incredibly blessed life. To start, he had married into a ridiculously wealthy family. They ran thriving Vegas-style businesses such as casinos and night clubs (remember those?), among others. I remember when I was little, we used to get invited to my cousins’ birthday parties. And I would overhear phone conversations regarding the party plan; that we would bring certain gifts, arrive at a certain time, and that it would be held at the white house. The white house? Oh, it’s what my uncle’s place was fondly called back then. When I saw it for the first time, sure enough, those gigantic Greek pillars made it seem like it was a presidential mansion, indeed. And if that wasn’t enough, there were Cadillacs on one side and a couple more on the other whose names sounded a bit German and Italian to me. But what really blew my mind, was that my five year old cousin’s bedroom was big enough to play ball in without actually breaking a China. I mean, it was unspeakably huge! I never forgot that to this day.

Years have passed since, and I haven’t heard much from or about him and his family until fairly recently. My sister had told me that he eventually became so stinking rich. Needless to say, he had also fallen into the usual traps that money brings, such as substance abuse, gambling and marital unfaithfulness. He had a child out of one of his affairs. His marriage eventually came to an end and was kicked out of the (white) house. He lost all his money and was homeless for years. I was told that he camped out in the back of his old beat-up Lincoln Continental. Though, usually, it was just parked somewhere for long periods of time, because he didn’t have money for gas. That is, unless someone (like my sister’s husband. God bless him) actually thought of him, paid him a visit and handed him some cash, just so he could eat.

To make a long story short, things didn’t improve one bit. In fact, he died abruptly. The doctor said his lungs were black like charcoal. He was in his late fifties, I think. And, it was just a few years ago.

What a tragic story. Though, much like with my relationship with him, I could only mourn his death from a distance. I think of his life. The beauty. The abuse. And, the pain. I can only imagine.

I remember the few times I had to come up to greet him during family occasions. I was always terrified. He wasn’t exactly the approachable type. He was way up there and I was way down here. As if I wasn’t worthy of him. Even to this day, when I think of those times, I feel awkward about it.

But what does it matter now? He’s gone. Life is so quick. Though, I’m learning that sometimes, we can easily live life faster than we should. Whatever happened to stopping and smelling the coffee? Or was it the roses? I’m definitely in no position to judge my late uncle. But when I thought about him today, I couldn’t help but think of a parallel universe. Maybe, he could have been more grateful for what he was given in the beginning. Parents who broke their backs to afford him a good life and education. A beautiful and wealthy wife that truly loved him for who he was. Beautiful children who desperately needed him to be the example of how life should be lived. And, even luxury that one can only ever dream of. If this was the case, maybe things would’ve turned out different for him. And for everyone else involved.

I mean, he had the cake, the icing and the cherry on top! If only I could pick the crumbs from under the table, I’d be in heaven.

But maybe, I’m really the lucky one here. Because I do not have the unnecessary distractions that could keep me from slowing down and enjoying life at a pace that was meant for me. I wake up in the morning and remember to smell my coffee before taking a sip. Much like I remember to smell my food before I start to eat. Much like I remember to close my eyes before I listen to music. Much like I remember to drive slower so I can enjoy my trip. And be safe, at the same time.

I believe, if we don’t go faster than the speed of life, it can give us a lot more than we can ever ask for.

The trouble with flatlining

| Chris

Real quick… I just have to play Queen’s Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon. Because it’s exactly what I’m doing, right this moment. Besides, I love a good quirky tune on a snowy day. I know, it doesn’t make any sense. But, that’s the point. 🙂

Anyhow, I just got done watching the old movie Flatliners. Although, I’m sure, it’s not the most appealing choice for some folks, I still like it much. If only, due to its spiritual undertones. Besides, it’s entertaining to watch supposedly witty people make witless decisions and then, pay for them later. In movies, that is.

bleepAlso, I was reading some random blog somewhere yesterday about the benefits of blindness. It’s interesting to note that there are, indeed, things we’ll never be able to see, unless we’re blind. Especially, if blind from birth. Though, how ironic, I thought. I can only imagine the otherworldly experiences of such people. Their visual alternatives to what we’re accustomed to seeing in plain view, can only be sheer fantasy to us. The light that shines through their “dark” world can never be compared to the one we’re typically acquainted with. I venture to think that, it’s a little more complex than a mere flick of a light switch. Or, even the break of dawn creeping in through a bedroom window.

My thoughts on this led me to believe that, there are reasons why we’re not able to see or experience certain things we wish we could. Maybe, it’s because it’s for our own safety. Or others’ safety, for that matter. Or maybe, it’s not yet time. Or even yet, we don’t deserve such pleasure. And perhaps, these same types of reasoning can also apply to why we’re seeing things we’d rather be blind to. It could also be that we’re simply being taught a lesson. Or something.

All I can muster at the moment is that, no one is in control of anything in this world. Not even our very lives, in fact. And playing God, or flatlining, if you will, is like bungee jumping, or doing other crazy stunts like it. You’ll never know until you try, right? Of course. And, it may be the thrill of a lifetime. Yet, it may also be the last one. And, being cautious doesn’t guarantee anything, really. I mean, do you ever know for sure? You decide for yourself.

Having freewill can be both a blessing and a curse. My choices are my own responsibility. Still, one way or another, we all have to make our own. It’s a scary little proposition. But one we’re all bound to initiate individually, sooner or later.

Tomorrow, it’s back to work for me. There will be decisions to be made. Dilemmas to be solved. Facts to be dealt with. It’s life. Would I like the outcome? Would I agree? I think so. Gee, maybe I don’t know. Hopefully. We’ll see.

Right now, though, I’m simply enjoying a little break. For it won’t last very long. It’s a little gift. So, I’m savoring every moment of pleasure… just lazing on a Sunday afternoon.

Musings on food, culture and travel

| Chris

Ahh, the restful atmosphere of Saturday mornings. After a hard week’s worth of labor, I seem to always look forward to it. No plans. Just a good dose of French Roast and Channel six to keep me company.

wacky characters

When I was a kid (not too long ago, I’d like to think it was), I, too, was glued to Saturday morning cartoons. But instead of Spongebob and Teen Titans, it was more like, Dick Dastardly and Superfriends. You do remember these Hanna-Barbera classics, don’t you? Granted, they were before Cable TV but, that’s beside the point.

Anyhow, this morning, I skipped the cartoons and opted for my usual fare of commercial-free PBS shows, instead. I love the relaxing effect of watching a painter demonstrate how to compose a nature scene on an empty canvas; or a host taking the viewer to the best yard sale bargains in town. But my favorite ones, by far, are the cooking shows. You learn so much about people’s culture by seeing them in action in their own kitchens. Right now, I am watching back-to-back episodes of different cooks highlighting heritage cuisine from Scandinavia, Naples, Yucatan, Louisiana, Shanghai and yes, even Martha Stewart’s own kitchen.

Right this moment, it’s Julia Child watching a featured Chef bake some French pastry. Not only are these shows making me hungry for a quick brunch, perhaps; but more significantly, it’s triggering my desire to travel to cultural destinations, at some point in my life.

Now, it’s really easy to want to go to places where it’s fairly safe. Where they speak your language. Where they eat, more or less, the same stuff you do. Maybe, even have somewhat similar landscape as your own backyard. That’s why I love shows like Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservation. This is brave. This is adventure. A real traveler’s dream. Also, last year, Jamie Oliver had a short series where he traveled all over Italy and cooked for monks, among other things.

I like the hands-on approach to traveling. Instead of being touristy and watching things from a distance, I like the idea of temporarily living as a local. I believe, this is how you grow tremendously in your humanity. You only grow so much if what you understand goes no further than your own neighborhood. Being a citizen of the world is what I consider one of the greatest fulfillments one can ever achieve in life. It’s when you are able to really practice humility in its sincerest form. Because, it’s a fact… the more you experience the world, the more you realize how small you are in the scheme of things.

One day, I would like to visit as many places around the world as I can. And learn. And grow. I would love to be able to smell the aroma in the air. Taste the spices in their food. Hear the music of their ancestors. Listen to their diction as they converse with each other. And, who cares what they’re talking about?

However, if time and money would ever get in the way, I could at least narrow it down to three places. China, India and Italy.

spice of life

Now, I’m seriously hungry. 🙂

On a hot wing and a prayer

| Chris

This is just ridiculous, I think! I’ve seen TV shows on restaurants serving the hottest chicken wings around. I mean, I love a good Buffalo wing dinner, don’t get me wrong. I even love it spicy. But seeing these guys chomp the meat to the bone as their faces turn bloody red is just unfathomable. Why? I’ve heard of finding pleasure in pain. But, writhing in torment while supposedly enjoying your dinner just doesn’t seem to rhyme in my book. Is it the flavor, or the sensation? Unless you’re numb, I guess. But then, there goes the flavor, as well. I can only imagine losing focus on the flavor when you’re profusely sweltering and engulfed in flaming agony. And, if that’s what you call sensation, then I rest my case.

hot stuffNews came out this morning about a restaurant in Chicago serving chicken wings so hot, patrons must sign waivers before they can be served. Your order even comes with an alarm bell. Like in a hospital room!

Do you agree not to sue us as we shove hot coals down your throat, and as you get hospitalized for it? Sign here, please.

Once again, a testimony to the fact that we can’t always have our answers when we want them.

Sigh!

But I can always make my own wings, right? Yum!

How about now? 🙂