Thursday, May 20, 2010

Another One of Those Random Posts =)


A quick glance around any room and majority of the people are using their cellphones, have them in their hands, or on their table, staring at them as though willing them to ring. For some, you may even think the cellphone is an extension of themselves, a now useful vestigial limb if you will. I love my cellphone, a fact that my worn out keypads and huge phone bills can attest to, but is this handy little gadget really that great?
Think about it, people were perfectly happy without cellphones. There were no embarrassingly loud ringtones that disrupt meetings, church services or even funerals. No annoying text messages with an endless stream of acronyms that read “omg, I cnt bliv tht, 2 awsm.kmp, ttyl.xoxo” and the greatly misused “lol”. You were never stuck in a lift or bus with someone who was screaming into their phone, absolutely oblivious that it has a microphone and they only have to speak at their normal tone. But most of all, you would never have to feel lonely or forgotten or rejected when your cellphone doesn’t ring all day or that cute guy/ girl didn’t call or text message you.
While cellphones are a necessary evil; they do come in handy in emergency situations and it is nice to know that it takes only a few seconds to reach a loved one; I think their disadvantages far outweigh their advantages. Infidelity is made so much easier now that all one has to do is send a text message to plan an adulterous liaison and the evidence can disappear with the simple deleting of said message. These days, all a suspecting partner has to do is check their significant other’s messages or call records (for the sloppy ones of course) and within minutes, years of love and happiness are down the drain. In the pre – cellphone era, one would never find out and continue in their happy oblivious existence. Ignorance is bliss, believe me. It has also become much easier to gossip or spread rumors. All one has to do is send a mass text. With the ridiculously low charges, who could resist?
Gone are the days when people used to talk and conversations were meaningful. Now everyone has a cellphone and human interaction has declined. Friends used to meet and have lunch and talk at length about anything and catch up on their lives. Now all one has to do to find out how their friends are doing is call, or send a text message. People still meet and talk face to face but more often than not, the conversation is interrupted by phone calls or messages from other parties. In extreme cases, the conversation is the interruption as some people seem to have their cellphones permanently at hand.
The obsession with knowing what one is doing at any given moment has gone wildly out of control. I believe there is nothing wrong with having some time to oneself without the constant intrusion of phone calls and messages. For goodness sake, turn off your phone every once in a while! People are thrown into such a frenzy when their cellphone’s battery dies out, you’d think they’d just lost their pet.
Holiday wishes, birthday greetings and condolences are increasingly sent via text. I guess these days nothing reflects one’s feelings quite like a text that says “m sry 4 ua loss,txt me f u nd nythn”. Hallmark must be operating at a loss. While the sentiments may be sincere, taking the time to write a letter or send a card shows true effort and shows that the person really was in your thoughts. A personalized greeting always counts for more, and lasts a lot longer than your limited phone storage capacity.
I would love to continue with my musings but alas, I have to go. I’ve got a ton of text messages and phone calls to return!

Friday, May 14, 2010

I'm a fake...

Small, simple, safe price.
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die;
I'm not afraid to bleed and fuck and fight,
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pygmy sized cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything,
Especially a fucking knife!

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Pavlove


I had a dream the other night, and it was a really trippy one. Which is weird because I hadn’t smoked up or taken any medicines in a while. But regardless, here I was having this super psychedelic dream, and I woke up to an epiphany. Allow me to elaborate.
In my dream, I was at a techno rave. In the middle of like a platform with candles all around it. And I was having sex with this incredibly fine dreadlocked man. Now I know that I don’t particularly have any exhibitionist tendencies so that was quite strange. Then the other thing, yummy Mr. Dreadlocks was a complete stranger. Someone I have never seen ever. What’s weirder? This is not the first time I have had a dream about having sex with a stranger; it happens a lot of the time. In this dream, however, the sex was like a spiritual experience. Like we were on an altar and it wasn’t just sex, it was like an honest – to – God pure, spiritual act. And as we got closer to climax, the emotions intensified and I knew that I needed to just let go but some part of me wouldn’t let me. And all of a sudden I began to feel ashamed and I slipped out of that dream into another.
In my second dream, I was a white woman. Yes, please believe. And not just any white woman, I was so Stepford, it was ridiculous. Think Britney’s alter – ego in her If You Seek Amy video; pie – baking, not a hair out of place, prim and proper, blushing at the mere mention of sex. Considering the dream I had before, this was strange. So I slipped out of this dream and jumped into another.
I was on a shrink’s couch, and I was hypnotized or something. And I could see myself, like it was an out – of – body experience or something. And I could see us talking, but I couldn’t hear anything. And then like someone had popped a bubble, I could suddenly hear the conversation.
“Why do you repress your sexuality? Why is sex so shameful for you?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I need to go back in time.”
And then I woke up.

I’m a big believer in that dreams are trying to tell us something, and obviously my unconscious is trying to give me a heads up about something that’s important to who I am now.
I’m not sure I want to delve into the past though.
Sigh…