Wednesday, May 24, 2006

How dead is dead?

For mother's day I asked for a small fish bowl with a couple of guppies. I was feeling nostalgic. As a child we always had a bowl of guppies located in the kitchen. It was a tiny cirle of life that sat next to the drying rack. Spend a few moments feeding them every now and then and you were rewarded with life lessons. Life, death, reproduction, and cannibalism (one must never underestimate the important lesson cannibalism teaches) all on display and offering cheap entertainment day or night.
What I got for mother's day was a big plastic 1 1/2 gallon bowl with a lid, 2 feeder goldfish, and 1 measley little plant.
The kid and I put the thing together and I immediately decided it wasn't right. There was no way these critters would last without more. The bowl of my childhood was practically a self sustaining environment. This plastic tub with its tacky gold inhabitants (which cost a hell of a lot more than my original request) wasn't about to last out the week.
So the spawn and I headed to the pet store to get a snail and some more plants.
As we perused the wall of aquariums it was feeding time. Right on my son's level sat the crabs. A mob of clawed wrestlers began pulling half nelsons and figure fours on their roommates to get first dibs on the morsels that floated down.
My son was thrilled.
So, of course, I got one.
After all the main point of the damn tank was to create together moments. That crab was my ticket to keeping his attention focused on the great well of wisdom that was about to be revealed to us.
And then it happened, the first life lesson.
The crab died.
Problem was, that the kid wasn't home.
Wasn't due home for 2 more days.
He isn't quite four...so we debated on our next move.
Choice 1: Toss the corpse and hope he doesn't notice the sudden drop in population. If he does notice, we tell him the truth. And he learns that death is completely mysterious. You leave the house and those precious to you dissappear without a trace and no one talks about it unless forced to.
Choice 2: Replace the crab. No way he'd notice the difference.He eventually learns that immortality is attainable if you live in a small tank of tap water.
Choice 3: Leave the little corpse until the kid comes home.And he learns that...well...death stinks.
In the end we decided to toss the little corpse and wait it out. He noticed.And for the first time in my child's life, I told him a bald faced lie.The crab missed his mommy and went home.
I am a spineless saccharine soaked loser.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

She's bbaaaaccckkkk

And the Grand Canyon is grand. An epiphanous experience? No. But actually impressive nontheless. I was a bit surprised when I took that first gander and felt my eyes cross a bit. Well done mother nature. That's quite a figure you got there.
When I wasn't busy being surprised by the fact that the Grand Canyon actually is an impressive bit of real estate I was running escort for my mother-in-law. Not an unpleasant duty. She can't travel at anything greater than a super slow walk so it gave me plenty of time to wander gift shops, peer at the view, and overhear random snatches of conversation.
And so begins my rant...
More than a few times I would overhear someone saying some crap about the honesty of some native american that they met. How deep the experience was. Or in the case of an actual conversation held with an odd chick from Amsterdam, "I prefer to hang with native peoples. They're so deep."Ok. Look. I'm not about to diss native american cultures or the people who happen to be card carrying members. This rant is for those pinheads who are puttering around the planet trying so hard to be deep by hanging out with anyone who has been billed as wisdom laden gurus in touch with the endless mysteries of the universe. (Man, talk about pressure for poor Running Elk and his progeny!)

Let me make it simple for you and provide the Do-It-Yourself Guru guide:
1. Head down to your local grocery store and steal a cardboard box.
2. Name it Bob. Or Bob Bearfoot if you wanna make it seem 'deeper'.
3. Talk to it, and nothing but it, for at least 2 weeks.

Congratulations.
You now have your own personal guru.
What?
You were expecting a pulse?
Come on! It's the experience you desired!
You meet a battered soul who has experienced the difficulties of life. Though beaten by the rampant consumerism of a 'white man's world' he stands strong. Your questions are met with the stoney silence of ultimate wisdom.
And it didn't cost you a damn thing!
In the end I believe we often seek that which we do not have. Be it that shiney new speed boat, a stunning pair of 6 inch stilleto heels, or a personality.
If you feel that you need to seek out others for depth, honesty, or a connection with the planet. Stop. Look at yourself. Because just like Bob, any guru you stumble across will only give you what you walk in with.
Or maybe you should just invite someone different from you to lunch. You'd be surprised what you can learn about yourself by having a conversation with someones crazy old aunt over a tuna sandwich.
Did any of that make any sense?

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Yup.
We're off to see the Grand Canyon. Been in Arizona 6 years and I've never made the trip. This, apparently, is shameful. I did not know this, but it is. I am not a good citizen of the US unless I make a point of visiting some tourist trap teetering on the edge of the largest hole in the continental United States.
I figure the 6 hour trip up, trapped in an economy sedan with the inlaws and my kid, should be penance enough. And the 6 hour trip back should be enough to convince me never to do THAT again.
But then again, I've never seen the Grand Canyon in person before. Perhaps the experience will be epiphanous. Perhaps it will force me to reconsider my entire existence in some joyous moment of rapture. Nah. I'm an American. Unless it has bells, whistles, pretty lights, and a strong dose of sexual inuendo I'm too jaded to be swayed by any of mother nature's crevices.

And now for my rant on Easter grass.
Fuck! This shit is everywhere! I can't get it out of my house! I find it in my kid's hair, in my bed, in my shoe. You don't actually see it...and then suddenly its made another appearance in some undesired local - like herpes!It kills the vacuum. It hides under the couch. And if your pet happens to eat some...well, in the end that is an unpleasant experience for everyone.
And its entire purpose?
It's the baby's breath of holiday crap giving. It's merely colorful filler meant to either set off the glory of your economic largess or camoflage the poverty ridden joke that is your kid's easter basket. I say down with this crap! It's got to be a terror to the environment. I can just imagine the vermin down at the dump dying of severe constipation and malnutrition as they mistakenly try to graze in the verdant fields of simu-vegetation.

Blech. I need to put on my happy pants or this is going to be a hellish day.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Yes Virginia, there is a god...

Question is, whose god is it?
Most of my week is spent with the kid or driving to some destination or other. Occassionally there's a pit stop, during which time I'll take a chance to check emails, friend's blogs, eat things that aren't healthy for me...
Believe it or not I do have friends of some substance. They write in-depth blogs that have actual meaning. They question politics, societal constructs, or say... religion.
I try to think of blog entries for my own little internet acre that have nearly as much depth...let alone interest. I don't have much success when all is said and done. Maybe its too much time in the company of a larval human or maybe its just my inherent laziness...or maybe its just because my "deep thoughts" tend to be rather short on marketable relevance.
Take religion for example...I've been asked, during various times and in various locations, what theological camp I've pitched my tent in. Do you prefer the pope or buddha? Feel an affinity for some guy named Luther who happened to own a hammer, a nail, and a few ideas? Do you escort spiders out the door instead of squashing them?
Well...I've never found a religious text that didn't turn out to be derivative of some other text. And the inherent exclusionary nature of all recognized religions makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes it even pisses me off.
But how do you relate to someone that god is a number of things:It is Schrodinger's cat - infinite actuality in a single moment.It is something that has never worn pants - no one puts on pants unless they have to.God is my child - continual change and development.God loves entropy - it is the one law of the universe that absolutely cannot be broken.
Gender? Hell? Sin? Moral right or wrong? I have no idea. I'm lucky if I can remember my own phone number.
Crap. I should be in bed. I have to get up at 5 am tomorrow. How about I just wrap up this pointless rant?
I am not a member of any organized religion. This does not mean that I am incapable of contemplating such things...or maybe even being deep about it. So stop looking at me like I'm a pointless heathen.
And I do escort spiders out the door. Unless they refuse to cooperate. Then they gets the boot.