Some believe their life is composed of what happened. I believe life is also composed of what didn’t happen. Subtle attributes of human behavior such as power-of-stillness and charm -of-confidence are amongst those things that generally suggest nothing is happening. I see great strength and forte in not exposing look-at-me swagger or listen-to-me charisma.

I put my sailorman hat on and prepared for my two miles walk down the hill. Usually there is a routine involved in this. It’s simply one mile walk down the hill, espresso at Citizen Café, and one mile walk up the hill with several steep hills that build up the hindquarters and butt really well.

I get out of the house and immediately run into my neighbors who are all dressed up going to attend the Christmas eve mass. Their lovely daughter endearingly asks me if I’d go to church with them. On the way down, I pass by E’s house who has been trying to sell me currency ETFs for such a long time. I also see that Joe is getting ready to go somewhere with his family. Joe is arguably one of the greatest republicans you can ever find. He’s fearless. In the neighborhood of 99.99% registered liberals, he’s the one who always defends Sarah Palin and tries to explain her “I can see Russia from my house” comment. During last year’s winter storm, my car got stuck on the way up the hill. Joe was the only neighbor who passionately stormed out to help with no qualms. He acted as if the enemy was just a few miles away.

A little further down, only a few blocks I mean, I see my ex-girlfriend’s car that recently, has accidentally moved in to an apartment five blocks away from me. After a few turns a great view of the downtown pops out and makes the rest of the walk down the hill, really pleasant.

I get to the bottom of the hill, and have a coffee at the coffee shop while chatting away with Jay who works at the coffee shop. He’s explaining how the whole process of roasting coffee beans is keeping his mind occupied. Jay is a down to earth chap. He mentions that he also has no plans for the day and that he’s going home after work to watch Gomorrah by Matteo Garrone. There are a couple of women sitting at a table close to the entrance of the coffee shop. They chat and look at us as if they don’t mind a slight Christmas eve flirt. Jay looks at them, I look at Jay, and Jay looks back at me and we don’t say a word -but we both exchange an innate “never mind” facial gesture.

I walk back up while looking at the steep hill ahead. My phone rings and it is a friend with whom I speak a lot about nothing. He invites me over for dinner. I get to the top of the hill and there is a long street full of naked trees – which is basically the plateau of this uneventful endeavor.

I open the front door, walk in to my house and for some odd reason, I feel this overwhelming desire to listen to “You Can’t Fail Me Now” by Loudon Wainwright…

She died today. Or yesterday maybe. Or a few months ago, I don’t know. My condolences.

As I was waking up, it came to me why the bully has been seeming annoyed when we asked for a breather. He says our home is at the museum. Maybe. But at least he should have offered his condolences. I’m not interested in his case.

It was seven o’clock in the morning when I showed up in a suit and tie and smart shoes. His office was filled with sunlight barely softened by a flimsy curtain. He seemed to be very tired. I sat down while staring at him. He didn’t say anything for a minute while the keyboard, which hadn’t let up the whole time, was still tapping out the last few sentences of what he was saying. He didn’t ask me anything, but he told a lot things. Then after a long silence, he looked at me closely with a little sadness in his bearded face. In a low and fatherly voice he said “I have never seen a soul as hardened as yours. The assholes who have come before me have always wept at the sight of this image of suffering". I was about to say that that was precisely because they were assholes. But then I realized, in a different way, I was one too.

I turned my head towards the window, and looked outside. The sky was already filled with light, but I could barely see a twinkle of humanity in there.

I know! It’s been a long time since my last posting. I had prepared many hardcore subjects ready to break down and discuss – but shit happened and my perspective changed. I’m not sure if the issues that were once important, are still important or even relevant. I’m not sure if I’m changing for better or worse, but the fact is I’m doing an intellectual house cleaning. I need to better define and align the direction of my postings …

… when I started writing, I promised myself that I’d always stay truthful and loyal to what keeps my mind busy regardless of edginess of the subject and/or controversy of the content. I’m going to keep that promise, so I will come back with some fresh thoughts. I need to order the disorder, place the misplaced, and discipline the mental pandemonium.

Anyone who writes or somehow expresses opinion, is also silently in search of affirmation of his audience. I just seek affirmation of a chosen few. After my last posting, I received a note from a dear friend who merely pointed out the statement that included the word “judgment”. Her note really made me move around the statement because I value her ideas. I asked myself whether I was judgmental for casting an opinion on false-intimacy …

… human mind is naturally dynamic. I don’t know about others, but my mind goes places and joyfully gets engaged in the act of forming views. My mind forms these notions sometimes instinctively, and sometimes logically, but never ideologically. My mind doesn’t even get close to be compliant with an unchanging principle, or a predetermined standard – because that’d be conformity which I passionately dislike. The baselines based on which I form opinions have evolved to be vastly overlapping and intersecting. For instance, I used to believe that a good thirteen percent of people are assholes, but over years I learned that every single person could be an asshole thirteen percent of the time. Such realization made it easier for me to let go of cheap complaints.

I agree that “Judgment” carries negative connotations which are basically initiated by religious beliefs, but at the same token, religions encourage their followers to make snap judgments about people and situations -as a critical act to wellbeing and survival. I believe “judgment” becomes negative when we start attaching our opinions to individuals. The other form of “judgment” shapes up when we assume that we were correct, and not being open to evidence otherwise — should circumstances change. Those are among the main reasons as to why I never discuss individuals here. I discuss issues. I don’t care if people wear their baseball hat backwards but I discuss inappropriate actions that (I believe) coarsen or erode the quality of life. I discuss the sin, not the sinner.

I’ve come to believe that shrugging my shoulders when something disturbed me was a passive way of not having an opinion. I believe every single person has at least one characteristic we can adore. Here, I just happen to discuss that entertaining thirteen percent that everyone (including me) seems to have. That being said, I can’t help myself not thinking whether this blog is my way of being an asshole thirteen percent of the time.

Categorically speaking, I don’t like categories because they are only about different ways of being, and not, offering much of anything about not being.

One of the greatest signs of social immaturity is those breezy friendships that come and go fast. These encounters shape in happy moments and get dismissed in a blink of an eye in great insouciance. Categorically speaking, I’m not prejudging anyone here … I’m bluntly and shamelessly judging them … as these once-idealistic friendships steadily and rapidly deteriorate into a ceaseless cycle of bickering because those individuals strive to retain their egocentricity in this conformity-obsessed world of picket fences and perfectly manicured nails.

I almost never make myself subject to i-am-dying-for-you-and-can’t-live-without-you friendships and wait for a long time. So much so that I have been at times perceived as arrogant. The “wait” isn’t about making a decision, it is about acceptance. The acceptance of all that I can bear in another person I’m about to call “a friend”. But that’s me: a guy who keeps finding himself on the wrong side of social equilibrium …

It was around 1:30 in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I looked outside and there was almost a foot of snow on the empty road sloped up toward the top of the hill. I drank some water and tried to go back to sleep. The phone suddenly rang into the silence of an already curious night and it was one of my relatives on the other side: my father’s cousin. I often compare her to “Miss Havisham” in Great Expectations – because of her contradictory character and her direct and wordy conversational style. She is too combustible and indiscreet. Her attitude towards life often consists of a clumsy sense of gum-chewing dismissal. Her enigmatic writing style always makes me feel like I have a subnormal intelligence – because she uses big words in complex and never-ending sentences.

The whole situation was already feeling like a horror movie. She mockingly got to the point asking me “what do you do besides work?”. I groggily mumbled around a bit, and explained that I was doing a few things … she continued by saying that she had had a conversation with my aunt about me. And then, with a polemical tone she asked me to pick up a blank paper and write this …

“Unique individuals love contradiction, good stories, long conversations, individuality, people, and humor. They seek order in disorder and they search for disorder in order. They have an average IQ and a high EQ. They care for the ones in pain and need to love. They are dreamers and dissatisfied with conformity. They’re interested in voices, harmony, and language. They understand that persistence is enough for being exceptional …”

… and she ended the conversation by saying “go back to sleep and don’t forget to think!”

Cafrinn,

I hope that life is finding you in good spirits. I have a feeling it is, you’re a smart girl. I hope in the places you go, you’ll see the place where you’re from. I hope you see the people you know, in the people you’ll meet … in this giddy lifelike dream you’ve tailor made for yourself.

Peace,

I have been blogging since January 14, 2006 which is about a month short of three years. My first few postings were about technology trends, but characteristically the tone of the blog changed to my long-standing favorite subjects: people, disorder, and inconvenient situations where almost everyone shows what s/he is made of.

I first chose the title of the blog as “Dichotomy: where I vent and rant when I’m red, blue, or even purple” which was reminiscent of my mindset that includes different opposing inclinations. Throughout, I’ve found frustration and irritation (red), sadness and sorrow (blue), or leniency and moderation (purple = red + blue) equally motivating for my writings. On the other hand, the occasional comments and feedback have been [and hopefully will continue to be] an invaluable part of the effort. I read and listened to them carefully. More than anything, some of the pointers proved and reconfirmed how relative these subjects could be. A dialogue that is a calm conversation for one, could also be an apoplectic fit for another.

Today, I’m changing the title of the blog to “Relatively Speaking”. I have been doing my best to listen and learn. I’ve been trying to be opinionated but not prescriptive. I have never stated anything like “right or wrong, this is my opinion” -because I think that’s intellectually insecure, but I will never use phrases like “in my humble opinion” either –because if it is an opinion it can hardly be humble.

I’m now almost three years older than when I started blogging. I felt those years should have counted for something. Going forward, if I’m going to be a cavalier, it will have to be on my own dime.

… courtesy of late George Carlin (modified for this blog)

I’m a modern man. A man for the millennium. Digital and smoke free. A diversified multicultural postmodern deconstructionist, politically, anatomically, and ecologically incorrect. I’ve been up-linked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing I know the downside of upgrading. I’m high tech and low-key. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I’m new wave but I’m old school and my inner child is outward bound. I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warmhearted cool customer, voice activated and biodegradable. I interface with my database and my database is in cyberspace, so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive, and from time to time I’m radioactive. Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, riding the wave, dodging the bullet, and pushing the envelope. I’m on point, on task, on message, and off drugs. I got no need for coke and speed. I got no urge to binge and purge. I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar. A high concept, low profile, medium range ballistic missionary. A top-gun bottom feeder. I wear power ties; I tell power lies; I take power naps; I take victory laps.

I’m a totally ongoing bigfoot, slam-dunk rain maker with a pro-active outreach, and a raging workaholic. You can’t shut me up, you can’t dumb me down, cause I’m tireless and I’m wireless. I’m an alpha-male on beta-blockers. I’m a believer and an overachiever, laid-back but fashion forward, up front, down home, low rent, high maintenance, super-size, long lasting, high definition, fast acting, oven ready, and built to last. I’m a hands on, footloose, knee-jerk head case, prematurely posttraumatic. But I’m feeling; I’m caring; I’m healing; I’m sharing; a supportive, bonding, nurturing, primary caregiver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash flow. I read junk-mail; I eat junk food; I buy junk bonds; I watch trash sports. I’m gender specific, capital intensive, user friendly, and lactose intolerant. I like tough love; and the software on my hard drive is hardcore. I bought a microwave at a mini-mall.

I eat fast food in the slow lane. I’m toll free, bite size, ready to wear, and I come in all sizes; a fully equipped, factory authorized, hospital tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle. I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double wrapped, vacuum packed, and I have an unlimited broadband capacity.

I’m a rude dude but I’m the real deal, lean and mean, locked, and ready to rock; rough, tough, and hard to bluff. I take it slow; I go with the flow; I ride with the tide; I got glide in my stride; driving and moving, sailing and spinning, jiving and grooving, wailing and winning. I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hardy and lunchtime is crunch time. I’m hanging in, there ain’t no doubt, and I’m hanging tough, over and out.