hanging out in bars

for the overworked and underpaid, maybe we go to relax. a few pints, like medicine, to calm the nerves all wound tight after another day of taking orders, taking blame, taking time away from what we'd really rather be doing.

for the outcasts or awkward, maybe it's to feel a bit of camaraderie. to sit elbow to elbow, staring at the same muted show on the same tv and drinking, just maybe, the same fine mix as those beside us- in a world where we spend a lot of time on the outskirts of groups, or illusions of groups.

for the lovesick and romantics, maybe it's an attempt to make a real connection: we might hope an interesting stranger may wonder in and have to sit in the empty stool beside our own... and maybe make more sense than anything has thus far.

for the artists and thinkers, it could be simply to observe. to notice nuances, to pick out the phonies, to overhear conversations and watch the movements of the whole, and its parts.

most of us, it seems, go to be among the many, and want to gain in some way from their presence. perhaps the drink is just an excuse. if a place kept the environment completely in tact, but switched our whiskey for a good herbal tea how many of us would we really mind?

Chickens have become a real distraction

Beauty in the Third Degree

First, here's the bad news:
Physically speaking, it's looking like we will never get to see ourselves as we truly are.
Technology, I suppose, has better things to do. For now, we can only see our reflections in mirrors, tinted windows, and cool 80's sunglasses, or we can see our projected images through televisions, monitors, and in framed photographs we begged our moms to take off the mantel long ago.
But the good news is, all of those are off. Off, wrong, incorrect, faulty, flawed, erroneous, and inaccurate. Every time I've looked myself in the eye in the bathroom mirror, or tried to judge my body in a swimsuit under florescent lights, or wanted to compare my butt to my friend's, I've never once been given an accurate viewing. People are not two dimensional. That means something. What makes a person's presence IS their gravity and posture, their energy and mass. There are huge elements of our physical existence that are unique to that last dimension! Shape gets discarded in photos. Voice is distorted through recording devices. The depth and breadth of a set of hips plus the way they position themselves in given situations are an important part of their attractiveness. The distance from a freckle on the front of a man's shoulder to an identical freckle on the back of that shoulder is one of the charming details his lover will never forget but he will never notice.

As that our two dimensional selves are so readily captured and viewed, it is easy to focus and fret about what those imposters are doing, and forget about the dynamic 3-D version doing the observing; biting its nail, sitting with one foot tucked in, weight shifted to one side, skin being gently tickled by loose hairs on its neck, all parts moving rhythmically with its breathing as worry lines gather above a smooth, adorably crooked nose.

Which is to say, just try and imagine how sexy Marilyn Monroe really was. And also, maybe consider giving yourself more credit, too.

You and Everything You Love

When I meet people, it usually goes something like this:

"Hi!"
"Hello."
"My name is Weo."
"Hi, Weo. I'm Paul."
"Nice to meet you, Paul. So tell me, what do you do?"
"Oh, I work at the blah blah blah blah blah."
"Oh, yeah? Hm."

I've been thinking lately, wouldn't it be cooler like this:

"Hi!"
"Hello"
"My name is Weo."
"Hi, Weo. I'm Paul."
"Nice to meet you, Paul. So tell me, what are your passions?"
"I LOVE Fish, and Drawing and Making things out of WOOD!"
"REALLY!? COOL! Tell me more!"

OR, even better-
"HI I'M WEO! I LOVE TURTLES!"
"HI! I'M PAUL I LOVE FISH!"

Maybe you think that would be going too far. I do understand. At first, we would be getting some strange looks. But we should not be afraid of looking like five year olds. Know why? Five year olds are HAPPY! They are out there doing just what they want to do pretty much all the time. They're not thinking about short cuts, tax cuts, or making ends meet. They aren't compromising their personalities or dreams in order to afford down-payments for shit, let's be honest, they don't need in the first place!

I used to wake up every single morning, Monday through Sunday, with enough eager anticipation for the day that lay before me to rival the Sponge in the pineapple! I would leap from my bed, sing in the shower, and start jokes over orange juice all because I was alive- and that meant good things were going to happen!

But then, I was one of those weirdos who liked school. I enjoyed learning. I liked teachers, card catalogues, lunch trays and seasonally decorated bulletin boards. And I loved my free time after school. I lived on a farm. I was surrounded by animals to pet and feed, and by untouched woods to explore until dusk. At night I fell asleep to my brother playing piano downstairs as I read under my covers until my eyelids surrendered.

My point? I was PASSIONATE about all those things I mentioned. I loved learning. I loved animals. I loved exploring. I loved reading. I loved music. Everything that was wonderful to me was always around me, always a part of my daily routine.

Somehow, my routine seemed to whittle out all those great things as I grew up.

Since leaving that little farm home where I was a child, I've moved from one little city apartment to the next in search of that happy passion for life. I've settled for unrewarding service jobs because they've allowed me enough money and free time to try 'finding' my passion again. I've completely given up listening to or playing music I love when I was dating someone who wasn't into it also. ~ Oh this bothers you? Ok, I won't play it while you're around. Oh, you're never leaving. Hmmm. ~

Finally, with a little time to think- I've realized my folly.
Maybe passion never really dies... it just sits around waiting for you to remember it's there.

So, what were/are YOU into?