tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43836468000392016412024-02-21T04:00:06.341-08:00trim and chew the fatRuby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-535693505085992652015-04-01T08:16:00.002-07:002015-04-01T08:16:17.472-07:00quickie<div>
an email from a dear friend, someone i look up to greatly-</div>
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keep the sun in your heart. gratitude changes everything.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lakota inspired art by Ruby</td></tr>
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i realized that i have great appreciation for the exploration of the area outside the comfort zone. <div>
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here is an update in asl about some of the events in my life recently. </div>
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Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-66112119411113823052015-01-25T17:45:00.002-08:002015-01-26T08:01:06.588-08:00perhaps enougha rant, a plead, a way to ease my mind and feel like i did <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u>:<br />
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part one:<br />
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you, like many people i know, had a less than exemplary start to life. although you never have had to want or need food, clothing or shelter, you have never felt loved. your parents are, from my experience, fucked up. right up there with bad parents. in some ways, from what i understand of your youth, your parents were not the worst. they gave you things. you had fun, technological relevant toys at your disposal.<i> </i>you also had some interesting travels and methods of travel. (your own family plane=the tops, man!) you were raised as an only child, and adored your older sibling who was being raised elsewhere, so you were lonely. you're so guarded, and at this point I'm not sure you're very much in touch with reality neither past nor present but you have given me times of lucidity, insight into your existence. when we were kids you let me know you liked coming to my house because my mom hugged you, and your parents didn't. of course your father didn't, he is the king of fucked up in your world. too brilliant to have social awareness? perhaps he has a tad less <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/07/psychopath-brain-structure-_n_1497753.html" target="_blank">grey matter</a> in his brain or retarded-brain-activation in his <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/24/psychopath-brain-hardwiring-concern-for-others_n_3149856.html" target="_blank">amygdala</a>, either way he lacks empathy and understanding that good fathers do not. he has in no way ever accepted you; and that is wrong, fucked up, sad, damaging... you idolize him because of his intellect and are addicted to him because his abuse and emotional neglect. you're proud to be related to an actual genius. i think you should feel grateful you got some of that brain capability. but in my eyes he is nothing to idolize or revere, he is a coward who didn't do his son right. all that brain power and he couldn't figure that out. "gee, i should hug my son and tell him i love him even though it doesn't come naturally to me. i should go outside of my comfort zone to raise this little person i created to feel self-love." you can't even blame brilliance for your mom's inability to love you right. maybe she was scared of your dad? maybe she had a super weird and unfortunate childhood. she was not kind enough to you. she was not understanding enough. she did not get to know you enough. i will never understand her but i don't respect her and i kind of loath her.</div>
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you started experimenting with drugs when we were very young. before i had boobs you had eaten bunches of psilocybin, minimally. perhaps you had a void and a need to feel loved and drugs did that for you. perhaps you were a normal, smart, bored teenager (with a less than exemplary start to life) who decided to do some experimenting and it felt good. it felt better that the angst. you're a smart dude. and being smart isn't always easy. you can be too smart for your own good. you can get left behind by your peers and instructors because you're so far ahead. unfortunately, being intellectually far ahead doesn't usually coincide with rapid emotional growth. so, you opened the doors of perception and started enjoying it. who wouldn't. but that naivety died in our 20s.<br />
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i saw early in our long history that you didn't really love yourself. although you would never admit that because you haven't realized your self destructive choices are fueled by your self loathing, or to admit that to someone else would be "weak" and leave you vulnerable. another lovely gift from your parents. i mentioned above, i think you're super smart. i think you have many talents! you appreciate beauty in a way professional artists yearn for. you have a mechanical inclination: your hands understand metal, and many other mediums. you're so smart and when you're interested in something you are capable of absorbing so many complicated details about whatever that is. you are good at finding the things you need to build or take apart or create from scratch to satisfy the growing itch inside of you for that subject/project. but you are your worst critic. you are hopelessly searching for a love feeling…. for yourself. no one is ever good enough because you don't think you're good enough.</div>
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part two</div>
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your parents have never liked me. i used to care about that so much! because of the deep and profound love i have for you in my heart, i want the people that you put on the pedestal in front of you to like me. but they don't . i know when you were a crackhead/pill addict and i imposed an intervention on you with your parents, you discredited my TRUTHFUL claims with lies. i'm not even going to speculate what you told them because only three people know what happened in the car ride home, but the picture you painted of me was that i was not authentic. but i was and i am still. i can't reach out to your parents to help you for several reasons. </div>
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1. i already held an intervention for you were you discredited my honesty.</div>
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2. they won't help you. they will chose to disregard my claims and not use their small fortune to make sure you don't lose your home, and pay for the treatment you absolutely need.</div>
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3. you would hate me forever. again. for the fifth time.</div>
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so, what do i do? no, first, why do i want to do something? what is my motivation? well, i think it is kind of a selfish motivation. i think that if you overdose or kill your organs from too many years of neglect, i am going to be super bummed. and i know myself. i will beat myself up for several subsequent decades wishing i had done something. i've lost a couple people, and the definitive end has so far driven me to be regretful. so, ruby-centrism may be at the core. perhaps you deserve someone to love you enough to care when you don't care enough. perhaps i know a couple people who think you deserve more than you're capable of giving yourself and deserve to gain the tools to give yourself a better life. </div>
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you have had many successes. too many successful projects and investigations of interest to list or name. i often wonder what you would do if you had sobriety. i wonder how long you've gone in adulthood without any mind altering substances. and what that felt like for you. i wish i knew the extent of your burden with losing yourself in altering substances. i don't know. but i have observed. very very closely at times and since our more youthful adventures, i have observed more distantly. my mind has kept little red flags in your file. and now that we are 30, i think it is safe to say i have observed some patterns. some self destructive, self-unloving patterns. it makes me sad. yes, i throw around what ifs. what if you were sober? would you be giggly? would your scenes be even more breathtaking? would you drink up life with gratitude and breathe in that fresh wonderful air and think, "i am content," and mean it? what would you be capable of? un-fucking-stoppable man!<br />
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but instead of an unstoppable, beauty indulging, content man, you continuously get so faded until you're a crippled version of the potential-you and are you fading. i haven't seen you sober in years, longterm-loved-friend. i don't wake up next to you but i assume you experience bouts of sobriety! you still get <u style="font-style: italic;">belligerently</u> fucked up. you called me recently in this incoherent state, at 9 pm. you have called a mutual friend in a slurred mess of belligerence even more recently. our last encounter in person you were so low on something you looked like a sleeping robot. you moved like sludge and didn't giggle. i didn't see the spark in your eyes, your spirit so dulled. you had no passion. and it has been like that for a long time now. before the cancer. you were already addicted. and now after, you are too. it made me super sad just a second ago when i realized, you get the most fucked up out of anyone i really love. </div>
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i have more insight than i have lead on. your young and sweet but also frighteningly addicted girlfriend has told me more than you know. she's scared. scared for herself (she <u style="font-style: italic;">should be</u>). scared for you. you, my longterm-loved-friend are an addict. i don't know the extent or <i>all of</i> the specifics. but i know with my heart and intellect that you are on the wrong side of drugs at 30. i know things you don't want me to know, and i kind of wish i didn't know. because, now i feel like if i don't do something, you might not ever get to experience yourself without drugs. this potentially super awesome person who has some inflection skills and who loves himself, truly loves himself. i feel like if i don't do anything you could definitely cease to be. and that would suck, because i hope you learn, you are worthy of love. you deserve to be more than your parents think you are. you deserve to be enough for you. you deserve to overcome the youth you were handed. your parents and choices as a child are not your fault, you carry the consequences, but you cannot control what happened. you deserve to let it go. </div>
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so what do i do? i write this letter. i let the other people privy to the information burden i hold read it and perhaps i give it to you. perhaps i just publish this and live with my feelings finally being outside of me. perhaps i give you this as a cover letter to a well researched body of text explaining self medicating, addictions, how organs work and treatment options. whatever i decide to do and i going to do it with loving kindness, with the right way, and right intentions. </div>
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Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-34014685057321930512014-07-10T14:20:00.000-07:002014-07-22T16:17:42.290-07:00nurture and flownurture and flow<br />
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1. live with loving kindness. to live in the moment takes practice. to then apply compassion to self and to others takes dedication ! find opportunities to surprise yourself by transforming unpleasant circumstances into avenues to apply loving kindness to yourself and others. realizing that we are all flawed and need to grown and having compassion for the self aids in nurturing the growth of self which allows us to be more compassionate towards others.<br />
2. get to know yourself. acknowledge how you feel without imposing an opinion about it. there is no should. letting go of expectations of the mind and observing them can teach you about yourself. noting your behavior can give you inflection and direct you to understanding why you feel the way you do and perhaps, if the feeling is unpleasant, relieve yourself of the burden of the unpleasantness of the experience.<br />
3. let go. after an experience, if you can't find a good place in your consciousness for it, let it go. let go of your pains. let go of your worries. let go of your anger. let go of your trauma. breathe in freshness and breathe out the baggage you carry. cry. talk. sleep. write. paint. play. build. rebuild. let the negativity out of you.<br />
4. balance. there are infinitely large and infinitely small parts of everything. there are long term and short term effects of our actions. there exists dichotomy in nearly every part of our existence.<br />
5. learn. nourish your mind with information. find subjects that interest you and dive in! or, test the waters with your toes, but find subjects that stimulate your mind and seek understanding about them.<br />
6. read. make sure that part of information integration is from written words. your mind absorbs information in many different ways, but please don't skip reading because it is a task. reading will help your eyes and mind be sharp and keen.<br />
7. add layers to your lenses. when you're seeking worldly facts, try to put yourself in the midst of the context and carry the value with you. you can use these values when evaluating circumstances. the more dynamic the lenses, the more dynamic the understanding.<br />
8. make friends. human interaction is valuable in innumerable ways. on a chemical level, your reward system is equipped with hug-chemical-happiness. as many anthropologists and historians have concluded, humans desire community and acceptance.<br />
9. trim the fat. you can't be friends with everyone you will ever meet. toxic or unhealthy relationships can be draining. there is a point that you have to cut out people who are unhealthy for you. relationships including family! i know many people who are in toxic relationships with their families and would be better off estranged. don't stay because you have to. evaluate circumstances and do what is best for the self.<br />
10. centeredness is the flow. every point in this list and the subsequent points are to help the self become centered. mindfulness in key to centeredness and the flow.<br />
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11. enjoy your body. you have love handles. stretch marks. that scar on your face. your thighs should touch unless your thighs happen to not touch. your skin gets rough. put lotion on it. look at yourself naked in the mirror and tell yourself you're beautiful, because i promise you are. enjoy the pleasurable parts of your body. they are meant to be enjoyed. explore them and figure out how to feel more pleasure. you're wired to have enjoyable physical experiences, take advantage of that.<br />
12. have innumerable orgasms. an orgasm is an autonomic nervous response. it releases oxytocin and endorphins (rewards) in your brain. we have evolved to have orgasms. do it. have sex. masturbate. if you're stressed. in pain. unhappy. feeling uncentered. have an orgasm.<br />
13. enjoy the company of people you love. even when you're in the midst of an argument with a loved one, cherish them. try to remember you wouldn't be happy without them. life is fleeting and unpredictable so remain mindful of the company you keep and inviting the ability to enjoy it.<br />
14. life goes on within you and without you. oh george. you were so wise. the ego is a powerful part of the mind. if left unchecked it will quickly become unhappy with anything it is not already incline d to enjoy. remain mindful that the world and everything exists whether or not you do.<br />
15. enjoy the past. it has brought you to where you are now. life can be trying and unawesome things happen. but it lead you to you in the present. don't regret or pine of the past. enjoy it like your own personal movie, accessible whenever you desire. carry the morals of past experiences with you, not the baggage.<br />
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16. be an exemplary friend. give unabashedly to those you love. find ways to help them and love them and be there for them. give love. be love. remember that they don't eat any seafood or that they're allergic to cauliflower. engage with them about things they are into. call them every once in a while to remind them that you care. even if it's literally only to tell them that you care about them.<br />
17. be an exemplary human. volunteer. bring more love into the world. foster something. give your time. pick up trash. all things you're capable of and will bring goodness to you via the world being a better place.<br />
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18. give back. whether it be to someone who gives to you or the earth. find ways to show gratitude for your life by giving back.<br />
19. find the joys in doing things you don't want to do. watch your favorite mindless television while folding laundry. listen to the most epic upbeat playlist ever while you're doing cardio. bond with your family while you run errands. enjoy the coziness of huddling around a fire when it rains and you're camping. find the tolerable parts of uncomfortable situations. if you're forced to interact with an acquaintance you don't enjoy or getting your teeth pulled, find something you can hold on to that isn't uncomfortable and feel that in the forefront of your mind.<br />
20. have reasonable expectations.<br />
21. listen. people often want you to know things. listen without thinking about your retort. you will likely have time to remember what you wanted to contribute to the interaction. be mindful in listening and you'll hear more than you'd ever imagined.<br />
22. smile. force a smile. find something that makes you happy. bring it to the front of consciousness and smile. keep your smile going and you will feel more happiness.<br />
23. seek to be in tune with the self. you can smell a bear in the woods. you can hear the fluttering of insects around you. you can feel when you need to give yourself a break. tune into yourself.<br />
24. eat beets. or kale. probably both. eat all sorts of nutritious foods. eat them more than you eat processed foods. your body will thank you for your entire life.<br />
25. work out. get yourself worked into a shvitz. your body and mind will be more centered. working out is my prozac and my spinach. well, that and spinach.<br />
26. get out of civilization and into the woods. i have never spent time in the woods and felt disconnected from my roots. getting away from civilization and letting nature teach you. nurture you. teach you lessons. feel the energy of being a part of the whole. remember conservationism. disconnect from technologies and the internet.<br />
27. find things that make you happy and do them. paint. run. play music. garden. write. contemplate. do exercise. nap. spend time with those most important to you.<br />
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28. accept everyone. you don't need to like everyone, or every quality of everyone, but accept them for the entirety of selves. this includes yourself. accept yourself, your short comings and strong points. accepting yourself doesn't mean you shouldn't strive to be better, but is an acknowledgement of...<br />
29. accept(ing) reality. the existence of the rainbow is dependent on the conical photoreceptors in your eyes; to animals with out cones, the rainbow does not exist. acknowledge reality. live in it. commit to change in the future if you'd like. always seek the whole picture. the micro picture. the macro picture. accept your existence for what it is, then work towards what you'd like it to be. i encourage you to seek rainbows and be in awe of how cool it is to have evolved to be able to create them.<br />
30. accept change. learn to acknowledge the discomforts of change. learn to be at peace with impermanence. it is the only constant in our lives.<br />
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<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-65151469126283240442014-05-08T13:13:00.002-07:002014-05-08T13:13:34.764-07:00bulletproof… i wish i was<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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please enjoy my latest cover. i learned this song for my bestie's 30th! i heart radiohead!Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-18109174226018340342014-03-07T10:33:00.003-08:002014-03-07T10:33:33.425-08:00fun uke cover on a snowy day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/hpUJrrr-bGU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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it was all real fun.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-89832645655987218162014-02-16T10:22:00.002-08:002014-02-16T10:22:59.813-08:00actually, free will?in a storm of thoughts, a rather juvenile question came to mind, one that i have never considered before: can free will exist? if you believe that consciousness is all a matter of neurological processes, how is free will a relevant way to express the human experience? free will is not the opposite of fate, because that would imply fate exists. since free will carries implication of it's negation: unfree will, something pre-determined, i suggest we find a new term to explain the neurological function of decision making capabilities in humans.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-10381590646264347432014-02-13T15:35:00.002-08:002014-02-13T15:35:24.514-08:00freedom, order and free will<br />
freedom exists because there exists, within the constructs of societies, order. order may require, minimally, some conformity for the free willed as the free willed often make disorderly decisions.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-82777708922348041802013-12-15T18:13:00.001-08:002013-12-15T18:16:05.123-08:00coping and the creative workspace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1yLII6WJVHKLD3ved9LSIMSOEYhSE0JF9oCxvqLH32N_Gvxa0MA1CdOTTEoiBQaO5zYKxz9LaRcJQDqsRNtRPiDlxOFJocCYZMrd4iPzzD6ERopS5Uz77G2S-wdjNjLahv0WNl-akak/s1600/DSC03218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1yLII6WJVHKLD3ved9LSIMSOEYhSE0JF9oCxvqLH32N_Gvxa0MA1CdOTTEoiBQaO5zYKxz9LaRcJQDqsRNtRPiDlxOFJocCYZMrd4iPzzD6ERopS5Uz77G2S-wdjNjLahv0WNl-akak/s320/DSC03218.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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as i scramble to use every tool in my figurative emotional tool belt, i come across a familiar friend: my workspace. time to create something that will order the chaos. </div>
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i have been reading and highlighting herman hesse's siddhartha. i hope to revisit buddhist texts after i finish with siddhartha. i have the strong desire to immerse myself in my kin and my friends who offer strength when i need to lend mine. i took out my very best headphones and have been riding the wave of auditory pleasantry when i can find it. i will meditate and exercise in preparation for the journey ahead. </div>
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a mentor recently told me that siddhartha the inuits have a similar approach to achieving a goal. the inuit hunter is taught to clear his mind of mental obstacles, fear, doubt and worry and allow his prey to come to him. "like a stone sinking to the bottom of a deep pool… his thoughts commanded his desire to come to him," hesse wrote of siddhartha. </div>
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we are all looking to escape the self and the suffering. some of us drink. and some of us use other drugs. those lend temporary escape from suffering. some of us follow teachers and philosophies that approach to truth but stop shy of the change, but provide more understanding than substance-induced escape. the truth, to hesse's siddhartha, was an experience and not learned. </div>
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Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-58278830226165444462013-12-09T19:55:00.001-08:002013-12-10T08:35:29.309-08:00black sabi, wham-ba-lam<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HCStYtk6wjng-m-HsNPlog-X49olpLe5zT96nC-Cb6QXC22R5ViDi01u1UQFFKznuzRtY2sgeAXYsrxZ-9H1iiC3pDE1a5j2xMGh7OQYOX61QWdBpesIbw4ZroK2dflYqXxPXAdlkXg/s1600/112_18676895857_9039_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HCStYtk6wjng-m-HsNPlog-X49olpLe5zT96nC-Cb6QXC22R5ViDi01u1UQFFKznuzRtY2sgeAXYsrxZ-9H1iiC3pDE1a5j2xMGh7OQYOX61QWdBpesIbw4ZroK2dflYqXxPXAdlkXg/s320/112_18676895857_9039_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my dog friend, sabi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
when i got back from vacation a week ago, my four legged, poop eating, loyal, handsome, mountain goat like dog had broke his back. i took him to a vet and they gave me pain meds and a little glimmer of hope that he makes progress to a maintainable place for him to continue living. the first few days he made progress. he wheel barreled around the yard while we held on to his hips. he would let us know when he needed to eat, drink, pee, and when he needed attention. unfortunately, about day six post injury he took a sharp decline in quality of life. he squealed and howled in pain with nearly every movement. fuck.<br />
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so, i had to make the decision to end his life. it was the hardest decision i have ever made. </div>
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here i am, clicking out some feelings and memories i have to try to ease my mind. i need to flood my head with happy memories to try to drown out the very fresh memories of his pain and suffering. he was my first baby. i am ill and heartbroken.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8Q19eAnEbGsG-kEBrOrCEQDU4TPjzsbZPvY4ZY3o15zhpLaID1wPGXg4fVHbsQbGd-yw75W2pWFH1LVkRSJiiOQKuafRzizMgl1tBfE6lWMSkpUM9WLEs6cgQUmPSX8wwjOBtMzmKMQ/s1600/249_54691680857_1536_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8Q19eAnEbGsG-kEBrOrCEQDU4TPjzsbZPvY4ZY3o15zhpLaID1wPGXg4fVHbsQbGd-yw75W2pWFH1LVkRSJiiOQKuafRzizMgl1tBfE6lWMSkpUM9WLEs6cgQUmPSX8wwjOBtMzmKMQ/s320/249_54691680857_1536_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">handsome boy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgE4udeNz5aEMWb5NhtKlY5MzE5x5EFGyZUpQi3qlmE1BEowbMQOhX805JX0xO1VoI571ohXRPoB9GLLLuLgO5nXyq3pCxClTK6KRVcEw8DWgurFNQQmQ9O1GX4dQjOh7fnplmwR1Ibs/s1600/132_19458595857_6050_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgE4udeNz5aEMWb5NhtKlY5MzE5x5EFGyZUpQi3qlmE1BEowbMQOhX805JX0xO1VoI571ohXRPoB9GLLLuLgO5nXyq3pCxClTK6KRVcEw8DWgurFNQQmQ9O1GX4dQjOh7fnplmwR1Ibs/s320/132_19458595857_6050_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">loving my dog</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rXqinuhy-NikutEaPQMqN8AOH_HEkhSS7UxE1cYl0EdntmJ8wfOVrmiBr_uUBvESPQna9MaRX1BZDtbIpo8Nme9g28ZbtMhNGUNsUVQanhkVpVLCrHnByvVbuZZF8WQb_U0KqcJ7qmk/s1600/261_66991365857_7179_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rXqinuhy-NikutEaPQMqN8AOH_HEkhSS7UxE1cYl0EdntmJ8wfOVrmiBr_uUBvESPQna9MaRX1BZDtbIpo8Nme9g28ZbtMhNGUNsUVQanhkVpVLCrHnByvVbuZZF8WQb_U0KqcJ7qmk/s320/261_66991365857_7179_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my college apartment was 107*</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICSWpW-WoXuzYCa2ZoFLwf1GggIjYTJ9uQUdLe_yvui6r1k8icE9TYAJviMiga0qXonHOffScL2c0-T4JFYj11zztFpKEXcHtCOg1oK4Wd0CWtFG-nGg4g8C8ysS1TyUzH-BD0Zx4UEA/s1600/196447_13266385857_5052_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICSWpW-WoXuzYCa2ZoFLwf1GggIjYTJ9uQUdLe_yvui6r1k8icE9TYAJviMiga0qXonHOffScL2c0-T4JFYj11zztFpKEXcHtCOg1oK4Wd0CWtFG-nGg4g8C8ysS1TyUzH-BD0Zx4UEA/s320/196447_13266385857_5052_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sabi with us on a 'walk for life'</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1912322748"></span><span id="goog_1912322749"></span><br />
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sabi was an amazing hiker. when we would camp together, I would "walk" him by hopping on a motorized vehicle and having him run after me.<br />
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he never needed to be on a leash because he was such a faithful companion.<br />
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he had always been a smart dude. he would trick his dog siblings into going outside so he could bogart all the food.<br />
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he knew how to use angled mirrors to his favor.<br />
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he liked to watch television.<br />
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he could howl like a siren.<br />
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he once ate an entire basket of my sister's panties. haha.<br />
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sabi didn't like most dudes. especially ones i had any physical contact with. i took it as an important info when he liked or even didn't mind a dude.<br />
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he loved to lick skin.<br />
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he would find any crack or crevasse to hide in.<br />
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he liked to perch on the backs of couches.<br />
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sabi was an epic climbing dog. i took him in every cave, crack, boulder, mountain… on every camping trip… he was such an amazing companion.<br />
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he talked constantly. it was great and not so great.<br />
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sabi had no problem getting along with other dogs. as long as they didn't try to cross the threshold of my bedroom.<br />
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we neutered him when he was 10.<br />
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i will never forget the sound of him licking his nuts. constantly. nom nom nom.<br />
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…or the sound of him settling: a groan, a chops lick, the sound of the closet doors buckling against his weight.<br />
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the way he nosed his food; most times right out of his bowl!<br />
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the build up of snow on his paws when we hiked through snow.<br />
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sabi's undying love for all things me, so much so that he had to ingest my pants and panties!<br />
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the look of love in his eyes as i pet him.<br />
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this is a work in progress and i hope i will keep adding memories of him. </div>
Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-10852029297888029462013-10-08T09:17:00.001-07:002013-10-08T09:44:27.753-07:00my body was a cageis it only the season change? i feel connected with my half side. i have a community of well intended spirits who love me and accept me. i am entirely, overwhelmingly in love with the littles. i feel content with uncertainty. knowing i know little or nothing is fine with me. i feel less skeptical and that i want to try different things to continue to become a happier, better person. my luck is great as i am feeling better physically most of the time. i don't require the aid of medicine to get on with my days.<br />
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<a href="https://soundcloud.com/philosophy_queen/my-body-is-a-cage-snippet" target="_blank">Click here to listen to a snippet of my cover of My Body is a Cage by Arcade Fire. This song sums up how I felt over the last few months. </a><br />
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i am in a place today where i am <i>almost</i> thankful for my ailments. it has brought me new insight into life and living and perspective for what there is to be grateful for. my ailments have aided me in seeking understanding through outlets i never considered before. i hope to one day be grateful for the incident, to be completely healed and to hold on to the new perspective.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbsVwg4Ar_SsReue6tDcyH6xkwvtqNSOsv9tMzrrbj1NLR-P6s7UksPTz9QaPyFZIykcZA-01U9jV03CG7J-AEhcQYUuEfHnaBdhFee-CkOr2LVD5CDhJ6pJaoyzJuxqU1Z3asq5SBcs/s1600/infinty+neon+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbsVwg4Ar_SsReue6tDcyH6xkwvtqNSOsv9tMzrrbj1NLR-P6s7UksPTz9QaPyFZIykcZA-01U9jV03CG7J-AEhcQYUuEfHnaBdhFee-CkOr2LVD5CDhJ6pJaoyzJuxqU1Z3asq5SBcs/s320/infinty+neon+.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>
<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-59835931176298936442013-09-27T09:32:00.000-07:002013-09-27T09:32:31.049-07:00control<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmALNWUBLRI9TfMETCN255atnYhBf-uisgCqTbZiSgay0wEGHJqO58eNBSBdoixutziIGeyhb5lpbZXWEqoKXrV4cB2RxmHwNSFq2jm6OI48627xE9iMCbPOWipECXCK8CzEaLJbTv8Sk/s1600/birdie+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmALNWUBLRI9TfMETCN255atnYhBf-uisgCqTbZiSgay0wEGHJqO58eNBSBdoixutziIGeyhb5lpbZXWEqoKXrV4cB2RxmHwNSFq2jm6OI48627xE9iMCbPOWipECXCK8CzEaLJbTv8Sk/s320/birdie+edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
you can only control how you feel about things; not how things will go or how other people will behave. the key to your own contentment is within yourself. that's all the control you have and need.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-19133083519635547832013-09-23T17:35:00.001-07:002013-09-23T17:35:12.783-07:00first fall painting and playlist (feeling inspired)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWpKxFL6Ted8By5IU_d8Kye7bq9fEcSiuGQkhm5U7IsXtBF6zSDzIYZaQzFexpZqfwyyTvWWNUd0bi4AJL-3E7uLSC39HaYhGlD1wOdnrs3pI93LUrYjhyphenhyphenoq-AgHQRfDxcLhKTP2bEKY/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWpKxFL6Ted8By5IU_d8Kye7bq9fEcSiuGQkhm5U7IsXtBF6zSDzIYZaQzFexpZqfwyyTvWWNUd0bi4AJL-3E7uLSC39HaYhGlD1wOdnrs3pI93LUrYjhyphenhyphenoq-AgHQRfDxcLhKTP2bEKY/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my first fall painting!</td></tr>
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<br />william butler yeats thought of autumn as a representation of the aging self : i thought of fall in the same light just today. my thoughts did not have have the prose or eloquence as <i>the wild swans at coole</i>, but i did think, hey it's the fall of my 30th year- the season that my body and mind are in sync and agree that life is beautiful! all the leaves will recycle and nourish the soils below. autumnal foliage is so pleasing! i feel inspired and full of energy.<br />
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i am thankful i can quote the beatles with certainty that "i have to admit it's getting better, a little better, all the time." i am healing from my wisdom teeth extractions and the stiffness and achey-ness i was feeling are lessening!<br />
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my first fall cover song (on the ukulele) is <i>talking bird</i> by death cab for cutie.<br />
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and... presenting my first epic fall playlist of 2013:<br />
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one day they'll know - pretty lights - a color map of the sun<br />
slow moves - jose gonzalez - live on kcrw<br />
from the morning - nick drake - pink moon<br />
crazy in love - pattern is movement - daytrotter sessions<br />
gone away from me - ray lamontange - till the sun turns black<br />
autumn fallin' - jay may - autumn fallin'<br />
possibility - lykke li - twilight new moon soundtrack (haha)<br />
the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us! sujan stevens - come on feel the illinoise!<br />
re: stacks - bon iver - daytrotter sessions<br />
you got what i need - joshua radin - mom and pop mix tape, vol 1<br />
the rip (portishead cover) - radiohead - covers by radiohead<br />
a lack of color - ben gibbard - at the bowery ballroom<br />
goshen - beirut - the rip tide<br />
my body is a cage - peter gabriel - scratch my back<br />
the needle and the damage done - neil young - decade<br />
perfect timing - obra square - sunshyness<br />
the times they are a changin' - bob dylan - best of<br />
yellow bird - pretty lights - a color map of the sun<br />
when we meet again - nicole reynolds - the arduous alchemy<br />
after the curtain - beirut - gulag orkestar<br />
foreground - griaaly bear - veckatimest<br />
looks like i'm up shit creek again - tom waits - the early years<br />
the backside grind - plan b - i'm the captain, where we going?<br />
the kings were good - point juncture, wa - heart to elk<br />
perfect disguise - modest mouse - the moon and antartica<br />
wandering star - portishead - dummy<br />
poison cup - m/ ward - kcrw morning<br />
true love waits - thom yorke - 10.27.02 bridge school benefit<br />
for you - sharon von etten - because i was in love<br />
he's gone (chantels cover) - vivian girls<br />
airplanes - the local natives - daytrotter session<br />
nice dream - thom yorke - 10.26.02 bridge school benefit<br />
the boxer - simon & garfunkel - best of<br />
king of spain - the tallest man on earth - the wild hunt<br />
chicago (acoustic version) - sufjan stevens - the avalanche: outtakes & ext<br />
workin' on leavin' the livin' - modest mouse - building nothing out of something<br />
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i hope you feel as wonderful as i do this lovely, colorful season.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-50111739908253745602013-09-11T11:40:00.001-07:002013-09-11T11:49:36.375-07:00a short story: mildew drapes<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">People call me weird. I'd prefer they call me Paul, but I know they're right. I have watched almost everyone outside my home be normal for as long as I've been allowed to be outside my home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have spent my whole life in Boody, IL. I attend Eisenhower High School in Decatur, as Boody has no schools. There are four other high school aged kids and six elementary school aged kids that ride the bus with me into Decatur. I don't sit by anyone. I mind my business and enjoy the sunshine while we are shipped in. Not that anyone has ever tried to sit with me, but I am pleased to get some undisturbed time to myself in the morning and afternoon. The rest of my day and evening are filled with demands and chaos in darkness and artificial light. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For as long as I can remember, we have had long dark drapes on every window in my home . They are never drawn nor are the windows opened. I have never smelled the rain nor felt a breeze nor felt sun on my skin in the communal rooms of my home. I have however managed to keep control of my own window: my portal to the outside world. When I was small my mother would punish me with spankings when she found the nails removed from the window in my room. I would promptly un-nail my window every single time she nailed it shut after I finally figured out how to remove a nail. I think she realized I would probably break the window to have air and stopped nailing it shut when I was 11. My room is my haven. She can't put dusty, mildew reeking drapes on my window. I could take as many swats as she could give, I love light and air. So, she finally gave up and I found freedom; when I am allowed to be in my room. I spend the majority of my waking hours at home cleaning, studying, doing homework, doing the laundry, yard work, and occasionally helping cook with my mom. She smiles sometimes while we are cooking. Cooking is a time that she seems to enjoy and loses track of the moods in her head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't think she has any idea about the spiraling moods in her head. Somedays, good ones, she will float about going from the need to count the silver to checking all the windows to make sure they're sealed. She may even put clothes on those days. She may sob and cry out that our entire family hates us and that she "fucked up my life and yours by having children, oh god what has she done blah blah blah," then pass out on the couch with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of some absolutely noxious alcohol in the other. Some days the moods are a bit more intense. She won't let me go to school and instead make me sit in our den reading the bible out loud while she sobs and begs god and Jesus to save us as we are going to be killed by the devil, or soldiers, or an asteroid… she really has a lot of end of days theories. I hate those moods. I also hate the bible. It is a scary book with nonlinear plots that are usually devoid of any moral points. I don't think I should have to plead for salvation or to live. I just want to live outside that room, in some sunshine, for the moments I do have. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have a working theory about when my mom lost it. I think she was always a little odd, but when I was seven she had to go to the hospital because she started bleeding. I was too young to put the pieces together then, but as i was carrying a bouquet of flowers there was a card attached from my uncle's family in Chicago, it read, "We are so sorry for your loss. Love, Charlie Diane and Timothy". I couldn't understand what loss they were sorry about. She and I were fine and my dad had been dead for months at that point. That note always stuck with me. Especially when I realized nothing was going to be the same. My old, and still slightly odd, mother never returned from that trip to the hospital. The person in my mother's body sometimes resembled my old mother. The way she smiled when I played piano was like when she used to put a record on and danced with my father. They would grin and giggle and the whole world would be at peace. I am surprised she didn't lose it when my father died. Maybe she did and I don't remember. I was a little withdrawn then, anyway. I would sit under the oak tree in my back yard and try my hardest to be with him again, even when he smelled of beer and cigars I wanted so badly to remember that smell. For a minute there, I lost my young self. My aunties and grandmother came over a few times a week and then after my mother had the hospital incident they came over every day. Auntie Jane would make me soup and a grilled cheese or ham sandwich with chips and Auntie Abbey would tend to mother. Sometimes she would bring a magazine. Sometimes I would hear them both sobbing in my mother's bedroom. The last time my aunties came over in that period of our lives, mother was having rather dramatic episode. She had thought there was a bad omen on my life. She had woken me up in the early morning and took me into the den. She had me lay on the table and started praying. She made me stay there while she got things from the kitchen. Eggs, flour, a rolling pin, melted butter, and some sort of baking soda. She smeared it all over me and used the rolling pin to make sure i was saturated in her concoction. My aunties came to the door, as they had every day since the hospital, and my mother tried to get them to leave. Instead they pushed their way past her and found me. Auntie Jane took me to shower and change while Auntie Abbey argued with mother. Mother must've won because they stopped coming over as often, and eventually the occurrence of a visit was once in a great while. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have never had a friend over. Not that anyone wants to come over. What would we do if someone decided to come over and my mother was gone (that was the only way a new person would make it past the threshed of the front entry way)? We have a TV with bunny ears but my mother hates it. And I hate the room that it's in. The air is stagnant and hot no matter what the season. My mother hates the sound of fans so we don't have one. She isn't keen on any moving air, really. Even the dryer is too much for her. I couldn't even host a guest in the only room in the house with fresh air. I have a few hardy boys books on my shelf in my bedroom. I also have six old teddy bears, three model planes, an empty fishbowl and fourteen army figurines on my shelf. My walls are barren. I have bed for sitting or laying, but I doubt that's much appeal when every other boy in my class has a game system and television in their home. I would rather not have any friends than have them over. It has been my experience that you cannot maintain a relationship with someone without ever visiting their home or having them to yours. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I have never seen the inside of a department store. Honestly, I don't know where my clothes came from until my Auntie Jane stole me away and took me to the thrift shop in Decatur to buy new pants last year. I had three pairs: one grease-stained from fixing the lawnmower; another pair were not meant to be petal-pushers but high watered past my ankles; and my favorite ones are khakis. The khakis are permanently stained and no long khaki colored. My Auntie Jane happened to be friends with my teacher. They ran into one another at a social event and my teacher mentioned the state of my clothes. Everyone knows we are poor, but the teacher was worried since I had no friends and I look like I look that my clothes were further hindering my ability to make friends. I am unkempt and not necessarily by choice. My auntie came over and argued with my mother for an hour before she grabbed me by the arm and tore me out of my bedroom and into her car. When we arrived at the thrift store she picked out a few pairs of pants, a couple button up shirts and a half dozen t-shirts. She found three pairs of shoes for me. A pair of boots for bad weather, tennis shoes for school sports and a pair of faded chuck taylors. I kept my other ill-fitting clothes to work in. I keep my new thrift shop clothes for school, I keep them laundered and fresh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I spend my free time at school with my nose in a book in our lovely sunlit library. This year I got a period off. I have made a dent in the classics section of the library. I get through a novel every week or so, I save my homework for home, mother won't argue with me about chores or god knows what if i am studying or doing my homework, unless it is an especially chaotic day in her head. Rarely do I bring a book home. I have had to lie to the librarians about "losing" a few books because my mother burnt them when she found them on my bedside or in my backpack. She always claims it is best for me, but I know it is best for her to stay away from things that may break down the constructs in her head. If i understand that she is different she would never talk her self out of believing I didn't have it out for her, to destroy her. So, I pretend i know nothing about how the rest of the world operates and play along in her moods so I can get by unscathed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know how many days there are until my liberation day, or my 18th birthday. 176 today. I keep a calendar in my locker at school. Mother will never ever see it. She hasn't left the house, other than to go to church or the liquor store since 2002. She has managed to write notes for school, take phone meetings (she has to plug in the telephone she keeps in a box to make a phone call), and politely decline any invitation to leave the house. She drags me with her once in a while to the liquor store if her back is sore and she doesn't want to carry her beer and whiskey. The guy at the register knows her by name. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Nancy, good to see you tonight. You look great. When are you going to let me take you out?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To which my mother replies, "Oh Daniel, you know I can't do that, I'm <i>married."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This puzzled me and I'm sure a quizzical look came across my face. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I see him wink at her and she smiles, <i>coyly. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That is the extent of quasi-average, still very awkward and filled with lies, interaction I have seen my mother have. When she does take a phone call she puts on a fake smile and makes herself sound <i>normal</i>. No bizzare-o talk, no delusional accusations against the other line. I wonder what it will be like when I have phone interactions with my mother. If she will put on the fake tone and pretend that she has an ounce of normal in her. I can dream. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven't figured out what I am going to do when I graduate high school next year and am 18. I would feel awful if in an episode of drunken stupor she caught the house on fire with her cigarette burning while she passes out, a cigarette that I wasn't there to put out. I can't imagine her surviving any sort of carbon monoxide poisoning since all the window are fastened shut and we have never had a detector in our home. On the other hand, I could live amongst people who believe in physics and read Oscar Wilde and Thomas Hardy. People who would probably never confine me to a dungeon in my own home. I have 176 days until I turn 18. That is 15 days after I graduate high school. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That all mattered until the event that occurred this afternoon. I thought my day was going to be pretty average. I woke up and got dressed and tiptoed past my mother's room. I snuck a glance at her and saw that she was still passed out. I was not surprised as she had drank an entire bottle of some disgusting alcohol the night before. I made myself some toast and hurriedly got out to greet the bus. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My school day was average. I didn't lend my opinions in class unless asked. I spent an hour in the library reading <i>This Side of Paradise </i>and ate lunch in the cafeteria, alone. I enjoyed my bus ride in the sun and took my time walking home. When I walked in, I knew something was amiss. The smell of mildew hit my face as it always does. It was eerily quiet though, and there was no mess in the kitchen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Mother?" I yelled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Mother, I am home now, where are you?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The silence was consuming. I looked in our den. I looked in the basement. She wasn't in the living room or kitchen. I didn't want to look in her room. I took several deep breaths and turned down the hall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Mother, I am coming towards your room, I pray that you're decent." That would definitely stir the mood if she was awake, the mere mention that she could perhaps not be decent. But, silence ensued. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I knew what was going on. I slid against the wall to the floor and put my head in my hands. What was I going to do? Mother had no money. I would become a ward of the state and live in an orphanage: none of my relatives would take me in, I was a financial burden. Was I prepared to see my mother's corpse? I really didn't have a choice. Maybe I will sleep on it. Maybe she is just sleeping the booze off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I worked myself up to going into mother's room and chickened out several times. I finally peeked in the doorway and saw what I had assumed I would see: mother in the same position she was in this morning. My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and puked. I wasn't as sad as I thought I should be. I was sick and numb. The fear of my future was paralyzing. I passed out on the cool, comforting tile floor until the next morning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My head ached and the stale taste of puke filled my mouth. My house was still and lifeless. I brushed my teeth and took some tylenol from the medicine cabinet. I knew I had to face a much longer day today. I felt torn, should I go to school, a safe place, and face this later or should I call my aunties now? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I found myself in my bedroom with the windows open and the cool late autumn air filling the room. My stomach was angry. I stared at my sterile wall with hope that any answer to the seemingly endless questions swarming my mind would come. Instead I started to feel saddened by my bleak future without a mother. I remembered when she took me to her childhood home when I was five. There was a swing in the yard and I laughed as she pushed my higher and higher. I remember feeling invincible in that moment. My heart ached for that mother. The mother who, when I had chicken pox brought me soup and let me put my head in her lap and nap off my fever. The mother who would take me by the hands and cut me in when her and my father danced. I mourned the loss of that kind, slightly warmer-mother many years ago, and now I have lost the shell of mother-past who consistently made my life hell. I had to keep the bad memories alive to get through this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My mother's untimely death had screwed me. I knew that my aunties wouldn't take care of me like they did my mother when father passed. I knew I was all alone. NO grilled cheese and trips to the park. I would probably end up homeless or in an orphanage for the the remainder of my youth, which was ending shortly anyhow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I took account of some of our possessions, thinking about what I could sell to get my feet on the ground. I didn't know how to contact anyone at social security to change the check into my name alone. I didn't know how much money we had in the bank. Did we have a bank? I needed help.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I found the telephone and plugged it into the wall. It was now 8:36 am. I don't know where to start on the telephone, but I did know one thing, it hit me: sunshine will finally touch the walls of my house. This glorious moment I realized I had control! I went into the living room and tore the drapes off the rods. The windows were slightly opaque with years of dust and neglect. There were only two nails in each window. I went to my room and retrieved my trusty hammer. Freedom. I never realized that the walls in the living room were the most beautiful dirty eggshell color. The crisp fall smell of decaying leaves mingled with the air in my house for the first time in my life. Dust particles rained all around me like a shaken snow globe. I took the drapes down in every room, except mother's, of course. My house was more alive than it had ever been even with mother's corpse rotting in her bed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt no guilt in basking in this sensuous experience. The awesome splendor of sunshine and fresh air that most experience often in their homes was finally mine: normalcy in this sense was mine as well. I sat on the old orange couch and daydreamed what my life would've been like if the drapes were drawn and the windows opened my whole life. I got lost in my imagination, seeing my young self smiling and playing leisurely with toys and classmates in the living room. My fantasies are pleasant until my mother comes to mind. My dead, rotting mother; who is lifeless in her bed 20 feet away. I need to take care of the business of her corpse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I first try to ring my favored auntie, Jane. No one answered. I know the company she works for and I guess I could make it into Decatur to talk to her if I needed to. I dread ringing auntie Abbey but I know I have to. It rings twice and she answers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hello?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Auntie Abbey, its me, Paul."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Paul? Where are you? Are you okay?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I'm okay, I-I-I guess," I pause. I hadn't said this aloud yet and I struggle to find the appropriate words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"What is it dear? You know, you have never phoned me before, I am concerned," Auntie Abbey affirmed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, I umm, you see yesterday, umm…"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Out with it dear! What is the matter?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"My mother is dead." I stated, matter-of-factly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Praise Jesus, son! Phone the police, I will be over as quickly as I can." Auntie Abbey hung up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I telephoned the police and told them my mother had died in her sleep and they assured me everything would be okay and they would be right there. Little did they know everything was better than it had been in many years. I felt like I could breathe for the first time without the crushing weight of fear on my lungs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a sandwich: cheese and bread always made me feel better. I realized I hadn't eaten since lunch at school yesterday, no wonder I felt like my stomach was in a knot. Well, that and my mother was dead and bloated in the next room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Auntie Abbey and the police arrived shortly after. I gave them a moment by moment recollection of the last 16 hours of my life. The police said my mother died peacefully, but I am not sure she was ever peaceful. They took her body in a bag, and I didn't watch. The police whispered to my auntie that she should do something with my mother's bed and she nodded and shook their hands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Auntie Abbey held me like I was seven again, praying to Jesus that he would watch over me now that mother was gone. I pardoned myself after a while to "take a nap." I never fell asleep, but I took out my notebook and doodled and enjoyed the quiet aloneness and the opportunity to sit in day light, not doing a thing. Not worrying about what crazy demands were going to be placed on me. I didn't feel tense with fear that tonight I would be slapped and forbade to step out of the house for fresh air. I sat in my room and felt free. As afternoon turned to evening, Auntie Jane came over and they talked and made stew in the kitchen as I stared out the window in the dining room. They both seemed sad and relieved, much like myself. They told stories about mother and their childhood recalling fond moments and not so fond moments they shared. They talked about my parent's wedding and how their mother almost croaked when my father slipped his tongue into mother's mouth at the altar. We sat in the dining room and had dinner together, something foreign to me. Although mother enjoyed cooking, I never actually saw her eat anything, nor did she join me when I ate. Both the aunties would look at me every once in a while offering my puppy eyes. I had no idea what I looked like, but I must've looked sad. Maybe I was a little sad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After they cleared the table, the aunties told me to join them in the living room. They needed to talk to me. I knew what they needed to talk about, and I was not looking forward to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">They each sat on with side of me and gently place one hand on each of my shoulders. I haven't had so much physical contact with people in ages. A hand shake here and there, and a gentle hug from my guidance counselor, and of course a hug from my aunties when I saw them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Auntie Jane and I were talking and we of course we are concerned with what is going to happen to you." Auntie Abbey had a serious look on her face. Gone was the care-free tone of recalling memories passed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We would like you to finish high school, dear," Auntie Jane said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I would like that, too, Auntie Jane," I replied. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Abbey and I were discussing it and we think you should move in with me in Decatur. You'd have to change high schools, but I live close enough to a high school that you can walk to it. We would also like to sell this old place and put the money aside for you to start your life when you do graduate." Auntie Jane continued. "I can use half of the money from your mother and father's social security to take care of you and will put the other half in your bank account." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Okay." I respond.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We can work out your mother's funeral arrangements in the morning. I will sleep on the couch until you're ready to come to my place in Decatur." Auntie Jane empathetically stated. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Are you sure you're okay with this, Paul?" Auntie Abbey asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yes, I'm sure. I have no other choice, really. I am just relieved you will have me." I started crying. They had no idea I wasn't crying out of sadness, but out of relief, and the hope of a fulfilling future ahead, something I hadn't experienced before. </span></div>
Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-59235604952556277912013-09-04T12:27:00.000-07:002013-09-04T12:27:04.052-07:00writers... deficit of attentionwhen i sit down to write my novel (s?) or short stories i have a hard time getting connected to the page. i want to find a different writing app, as the application i am using now doesn't engage me as i would like. my process is often interrupted by the lingering desire to read and learn. today my intention was to write a short story. what am i doing? blogging. if i can get this short story written i will publish it here.<br />
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also, it seems that if i can find the groove of some music, i can get some substantial writing done. if i can't find anything in my <i>vast </i>musical library i can't write. once, i got stuck on "shelter from the storm" and wrote a romantic plot entirely based on how bob dylan was making me feel. today's groove is animal collective's <i>campfire songs</i> has inspired an odd voice in my writing.<br />
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i now understand why writers rent country homes and withdraw from their daily lives to write. i wonder what the woods would inspire me to write?<br />
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cheers!</div>
<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-11570009880334460342013-08-29T14:39:00.002-07:002013-08-29T14:39:54.320-07:00science blows...my mind!i wanted to do a link listy post today.<br />
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IBM has made the world's smallest movie- with 12 atoms. ah! you have to watch, then watch the making of this short movie. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSCX78-8-q0&list=PLaFe0BJiho2pbiULC7W4UpxFGArH7oD7i" target="_blank">Click here to see IBM's Atom movie.</a><br />
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what i want to own: <a href="http://ndpr.nd.edu/news/41423-he-oxford-handbook-of-contemporary-phenomenology/" target="_blank">The Oxford Handbook of Contemporary Phenomenology</a>. <br />
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a new study: <a href="http://www.sciencemag.org/content/341/6149/976" target="_blank">Poverty Impedes Cognitive Function</a>. i can name a couple political philosophers that knew that already!<br />
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and one more from IBM- <a href="http://www.technologyreview.com/news/518586/a-camera-that-sees-like-the-human-eye/" target="_blank">this camera sees like the human eye</a>.<br />
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<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-54250495350529842272013-08-27T20:00:00.000-07:002013-08-29T14:24:45.675-07:00a short hiatus this summer has been... a learning experience.<br />
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i had an unexpected illness that left me feeling unable to move. i never understood the amount of gratitude i could have for something like <i>walking</i> before that seemingly normal part of my life was unreachable. <strike>everyday i don't wake up with great discomfort i am entirely happy for.</strike> everyday i wake up i am entirely grateful for.<br />
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<i>with gratitude</i> is how i want to live.<br />
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i have added a mantra to my yoga and meditative practices: i am a part of the whole and a manifestation of the universe that reflects upon itself.<br />
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"There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth - yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams." - F.Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise, 1920!<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Wvydfynhkc" target="_blank">One Day at a Time- Pretty Lights</a>Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-5819208105765401692013-05-01T20:43:00.001-07:002013-08-29T14:40:51.139-07:00budget/diet comparisonbudgets are like lifestyle diets: sometimes trimming out the unnecessaries can lead us to a place where we are more content, happier, and healthier.<br />
<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-45005370931281152632013-04-10T22:06:00.000-07:002013-04-11T21:02:37.144-07:00triple theory (the negation of right) and some thought puzzlings<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: text-align: -webkit-auto;">i recently stumbled upon derek parfits. i find him both agreeable and the opposite. </span><span style="line-height: text-align: -webkit-auto;">he doesn't believe in subjectivism, relativism, nor nihilism. he follows in the footsteps of Kant, in thinking that there is universality to morals: a "supreme principle of morality." he states that not all ethical questions have solid answers. he borrows from the consequentialists, who think that some states of affairs are worse or better than others, and who think that right actions are ones that tend to produce a good outcome to best. parfit borrows from Kant, who posited that ethical principles are right when they can be rationally willed into universal code and self governance by ration beings. he also borrows from the contractualists, who believe that ethical principles are to be agreed upon by discussion with and of perfect conditions. he speaks against the naturalists, and although i have not read his proofs extensively regarding his distaste for science playing a part in understanding ethics, i think it may be that he believe that there is a lower level abstraction, a lower mode of thought in the sciences, falling into the existential conundrum- does it really matter how things are outside of this very experience? this is a flaw that many critics are pointing out is that in his magnum opus, On What Matters, parfit uses made up scenarios. scenarios that haven't made them (or me) think, this is with all things considered a realistic and perfect example, like an actual example (which is observable from hopefully many perspectives) can give to the reader. sartre used made up examples like, looking for someone at a coffee shop (who wasn't there) to frame the negation of something as nothing. you can't misunderstand that made up scenario, the necessary details are present that have you arrive at the idea Sartre wanted you to. peter singer highlights the arguments the dutch used in the 90's to legalize euthanasia, statistics, other scenarios to fire the synapses in you, the reader, to </span><i style="font-weight: bold;">E</i></span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold;">ureka!</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> euthanasia is ethically and morally sound. i am not moved or convinced (nor fired synapitcally, haha i made up a word) that parfit's forms are leading me to feel like this equation is... closest to "right." parfit uses impracticalities to drive the questions in a way that suits his answers.... adding details that are not prevalent in the real world. parfit believes that t</span></span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">hought puzzles are critical to ethics and he particularly fails to impress me with his attempt at building a foundation of metaphysics to his philosophies that are so non-naturalistic they verge on strange fiction. i think parfit's ethical body would fit better with a naturalists theory as his metaphysical or ontological foundation. challenge? just another route to the peak where all sound theories converge. </span><u style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">i guess i should address what it is to be a sound theory.</u></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">i would like to do a little philosophizing here. but where i will move away from parfit is that i am willing to consider naturalism, or any other qualifying and undeniably reasonable ethical equation, metaphysical explanations or framework into considerations, as perhaps there are innumerable paths to the top of the metaphorical mountain (the peak is true, glorious, rightness). a discussion about the merits and general usefulness of such philosophizing is warranted after this tangent.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">"some opinions are better than others" or "not all opinions are equally right"<br />
so,</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">is it generally agreeable that there are opinions that are of less VALUE where, value equals: clarity, applicability, of common sense and/or of logical soundness?</span><br />
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if you can agree that there are opinions that are all or some of these things, couldn't it follow that some opinions are the opposite: more or less clear, more or less applicable, more or less sound in common sense and/or of more or less logical soundness?</span><br />
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if you agree with most of the above two premises, then i ask you to consider this postulation:</span><br />
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when opinions are of greater value, they are approaching superior form of rightness, where a superior form of rightness equals a mostly parallel path to a non static rightness, where rightness can be approached by many paths, including the principles of parfit's triple formula (the negation of right), which states:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">An act is wrong if and only if, or <em style="border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">just when</em>, such acts are disallowed by some principle that is</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">(1) one of the principles whose being universal laws would make things go best,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">(2) one of the only principles whose being universal laws everyone could rationally will....</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">(3) a principle that no one could reasonably reject.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit;">now i can try to use this equation, the negation of rightness, to say whether or not it is right and true to say that some opinions are better than others. i think that'll be part two. i am ready to snooze. but i'll leave you with this thought i had today while i visited my mat:</span><br />
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ethical theories should very much resembles our asanas. they should be dynamic and change, shifting into a more clear and perfect form of rightness for the moment at hand. </span>Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-42838676977239310052013-04-02T19:27:00.002-07:002013-04-09T14:32:19.508-07:00i'm writing a bookit may not interest you. it's a fictitious chick oriented novella. who would have thought? since i am not a scientist, nor am i prepared for my magnum opus in philosophy, this is what is flowing out of me. i want to be intimately connected with the characters. i want to experience the lucidity of dreaming, during my waking life! it's nearing a novella status and my leading man has only made my protagonist's acquaintance. the antagonist is the easiest to write. i think he's the potential douche in all of us. i am tempted to write a secondary novelette about him. because if you like this genre of chick lit, i hope you'd be curious what happened to him. the kind of curious you are when you're stuck in traffic and you see red and blue lights.<br />
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sometimes, when i am having troubles catching the wave to sleep, i play out some scenes like a movie in my head. it's such a trip! since i have written a little (5,000 words, ish) into the story, i can see the characters and <i>make them do what i want.</i> <b>gah!</b> the awesomeness of having <i>ultimate control</i> over something. i am often times in the pits of anxiety over entropy; and this is an exercise of the opposite. i am not a megalomaniac, i am brahma, vishnu and shiva of my little book universe. ah yes, sweet sweet control. i can go back to a certain point in thought and take the characters in a different direction. i can drift into sleepy world while being <i>productive. </i><br />
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the writing a book thing as an action isn't all that easy. i am on my blog, writing instead of writing my story. i feel a little overwhelmed with the word count. i didn't know that was a force in the industry until i googled "writing a novel." oops. big mistake. there are bunches of rules and trends that i don't want in my book universe. word counts are an unwanted entity in my writing stint. i am still easily distractible and my two hour allocation a day goes by way too fast.<br />
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i don't know how this is gonna turn out but i sure am having fun being creative and using my imagination. i may even write a Berkeley-esqe dialog of philosophy someday.<br />
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cheers!Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-78165279449899811462013-03-05T14:44:00.001-08:002013-03-05T16:27:36.224-08:00eureka! last weekend while i was talking with a friend, i realized something: i value people who choose to think about many and deep variables when considering an idea. people who will continue to seek a higher level of understanding even after they have made a choice, so they might take away a value lesson from an action that may have not seemed incredibly impacting.<br />
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i need more of that surrounding my adult life. </div>
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listen:<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlpgNsJsNKI" target="_blank">Tonight- Lykke Li</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxWBd840E9g" target="_blank">Default- Atoms for Peace <3</a></div>
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Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-48188750699207973772013-02-16T11:16:00.002-08:002013-02-16T11:17:34.538-08:00warning: still not very good. but i like it and your attention. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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the rip. a song by portishead. but me on the ukulele. </div>
Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-9784338307400907372013-02-11T19:13:00.000-08:002016-08-14T17:09:15.508-07:00useless wordsno, this won't be an emotional post regarding empty promises or political shortcomings. i decided to start a compilation of words that i would like to see less of, also, hear less of. <br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">very, because it is without value as a qualifier. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"> e.g. I have a very wide range of interests. [translation] I have an amount of interests. [better yet] my interests vary from love and meditation, through philosophy, into the sciences, and, around to music. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">- a lot, because it means a grouping of things not a real quantity (I am guilty of using this often, I lose.) </span><br />
e.g. I miss you, a lot. [translation] I miss you, a quantity of something. [or] I miss you, a quantity of things that are missed. [better yet] Missing you feels equivalent to hours spent having dental work.<br />
- really, unless it is being used as a question regarding something's actuality, it is a useless quantifier. <br />
e.g. I really want a new bed. [translation] I don't figuratively want a new bed. [better yet] I want a new bed about as much as I like to shower.<br />
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to be continued?<br />
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<br />Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-10647179232895588012013-01-24T14:48:00.002-08:002013-01-24T14:48:45.640-08:00covers that i loverswatch with discretion- i am a hack of a guitar player and a singer :P<div>
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Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-46759337646433659002012-11-13T14:30:00.001-08:002012-11-14T15:28:35.352-08:00being for itself or mindfulnessbeing mindful takes great concentration. you can (and maybe should) be mindful in nearly all of your actions. i have to exercise my brain muscle in nearly every interaction to remain mindful. i have a ton of stuff going on in my head; that does not lead to clear thinking! the brain didn't evolve to multitask! so when dealing with stressful situations i let my emotional self drive the bus and she is a terrible driver. but if i can go back to listening to my breaths, slowing them down then refocusing to the at hand experience, i can sort it out much more quickly than if emotional ruby is terrorizing the proverbial streets.<br />
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i learned something interesting today about how the mind works. and it relates to math and philosophy! i learned that the adult brain is still incapable of negating nothing! you must have something to negate! in<i> being and nothingness</i>, sartre starts out by considering a temporal process of negation. a guy walks into a cafe looking for his friend, pierre. "in order to comprehend Pierre's absence, [...] requires a negative moment by which consciousness constitutes itself as a negation." (63) sartre goes on to say that one must posit in the mind that "I am conscious of Pierre not being here." <u>nothing does not exist in the world as something tangible.</u> nothingness is a lack of the presentation of a tangible object to consciousness.<br />
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sartre's idea is applicable to understanding interactions of humans. since the mind cannot comprehend negations as anything less than the object and a concept, when you are directing someone, err suggesting something, using negations or negative iterations are counter productive. to say "do not yell at me" is actually planting yelling, then the annihilation of yelling in the brain, which is one more step than the brain needs. it would be easier to internalize "please use your calm voice with me" as a directive to get what you'd like accomplished.<br />
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to be mindful takes energy and practice. try being mindful of negations for a week. when you catch yourself slipping into DON'Ts, instead redirect the behavior towards the end goal you're seeking.Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383646800039201641.post-53166769744170119512012-11-04T14:16:00.000-08:002012-11-04T14:25:48.352-08:00a chemical reaction<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">nerve growth factor</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">,</span><span style="line-height: 13.300000190734863px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">testosterone</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">,</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">estrogen</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">dopamine</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">norepinephrine</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">serotonin</span><span style="background-color: line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">oxytocin</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, and </span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">vasopressin</span> are the chemicals associated with love. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">today i was reminded why you don't have to cut up every picture of a lost love, nor try to forget the people of your past. sometimes the pain of the facing your loss of a loved person (whether it be to their demise or a distance that quite simply is much too far to row) can help you remember what a neat chemical experience you had with them. every chance encounter is different, chemically. some people in life are more affectionate and the oxytocin you experience with affectionate people helps to define the lasting memory of your experience with them. love is an addiction. it isn't a craving- it is a high.</span><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> love, in a chemical explanation helps ground me and remember that experiences are fleeting, numbered, unique and a reminder that being as such is a complex journey. </span></span>Ruby Q. Love http://www.blogger.com/profile/15775740981094684047noreply@blogger.com0