Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about being cuffed, dreaming, and courage.

** Image ID #1911719 Unavailable **

What's up y'all? I'm fully aware now that I've fallen like...I dunno, three days behind in the "Invalid Item" . I've also reached a point where today is not the day I'll be making up that lost ground. I'm ok with this, because one shouldn't always punish himself so hard for being lazy and unmotivated during a month-long writing competition (says the guy who runs a month-long writing competition).

What sucks more though is that I've practically got at least two of the entries I'm missing written sorta, in my head. And nothin's stoppin' me from gettin' them down. I just...don't feel like it. I will, eventually. It's not even looking like that's something I'll be doing this week, but who knows. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

For a change, I woke up this morning before the image prompts were sent out, but not by long...which means I was still clearing the crusties from my eyes while I was deciphering exactly what was happening in the pictures. I was, at 11am, somehow trying to convince myself that the girl in this picture kinda has a cute butt. It is now 7:30pm, and I am wondering how in the hell my mind led me to just assume the person in this picture is a woman in the first place. Like, there's no way of knowing, and that's no way to be going about life! Shame on me! That's a person! That's someone's daughter! (Or son.)

And this could all lead to some uncomfortable conversations...which will be a thread I'll be pulling tonight anyway; just of a different color. There are what...12 pairs of handcuffs on this person? Twelve!! Is that even necessary? I don't play around with handcuffs- I won't even do kinky shit with 'em- because I know how god damn uncomfortable it is to wear one pair of handcuffs. I don't care if you're a tongue gymnast with gold medals in the seven inch and deep throat events...it's not happenin'. Of the many uncomfortable moments over my 40 years, sitting in a cop car with my hands cuffed behind my back has easily been one of the worst. It's murder of your shoulders...seriously, try it. Put your hands together behind your back and sit upright against a stiff chair for ten minutes. Sucks, right?

At least I was treated pretty respectfully for the most part (even though the officer that "placed" me in the car seemed very practiced at the art of tucking one's head down while introducing them to their back seat in a swift fashion). I know that this is just a picture (a random one, I hope), but what does a person have to do to get 12 orgy favors slapped on 'em? I'm sure it's not speeding, with a side of suspended license-ness.

And I'm fighting a real serious urge to not go all political here and spit some kinda metaphor for police brutality. I don't care who you or your connections are; you can't tell me that some cops don't overstep their boundaries and hide behind their badges (and before you get too cute and accuse me of starting anything, I also know that there is such a thing as a good cop...but your preferred disease of media will get you to believe almost anything if you let it). But I'm not gonna do it...not today. I'm just not interested in that sort of discussion, because I've learned that you can tell people daily that the sky is blue and they'll still answer "yellow" come test day.

So seriously, what's going on here? I know...I'm supposed to be answering that. And I haven't even a clue...it's like I can't imaginate today, or somethin'. Or maybe I don't wanna, because this picture is supposed to be the reminder of what it felt like spending a few hours in a jail cell I didn't even know my community had (which was surreal and off-putting, at the same time). I'm embarrassed both for that day, and for not having a better response this evening. Weird how that worked out.

"'For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.' -Vincent Van Gogh. What does the sight of stars do to you?"

Stars...don't exactly inspire me (and it's just occurred to me I might be working on my most boring blog entry ever). Maybe I've misplaced some of my ways in the world, but the idea of laying on my back in the grass late into the night has lost most of whatever romanticism it once meant to me. If we happen to be hanging out and that's what we end up doing, know right now I am not looking forward to it, unless we also end up making out. That is what I'm looking forward to. So if A then B, let's get A out of the way as quickly as possible.

You know what else I think of when I see stars? It means I'm about to lose consciousness very quickly. Whoever came up with the euphemism "seeing stars" when someone gets knocked out wasn't joking, because every time I've taken a good enough shot to the head I've had a mini light show go on, and then I wake up in a completely different direction and position than what I last remember. There isn't really a better way to describe it...get whacked, stagger for a half-second while a shooting star erupts in each eye, and come to like there was way too much vodka in your last night.

So I don't wanna hate on Van Gogh, because he seems to have really meant well when he said this, and it's awfully sweet and delightful for someone who was crazy enough to cut off his own ear and mail it to someone. Karma works in funny ways; if I say something that disrupts a deceased artist's chi or whatever, I'll probably wake up with a sixth finger on each hand, or worse, an ear growing out of my foot...and it's a pain in the ass buying shoes when there's an ear on your foot. I don't need that kind of complication in my life.

"How do you think fear and courage are related? Does fear provide the opportunity for courage? Or is courage an entity on its own without the catalyst of fear?"

Excellent question. Certainly one ingredient of courage is overcoming a fear, while fear opens a few doors itself (including the opportunity for courage). To say that one is dependent on the other though isn't entirely true; it's more of a case-by-case issue, where variable amounts of courage/fear lead to varying degrees of courage/fear.

And no one has a quantifiable system in either as they relate to different people or circumstances. Take the Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner story, for example. Every year ESPN holds a self-fellating awards program they call "The Espys", and they trot out a bunch of athletes and celebrities because apparently there aren't enough trophies to go around if you're famous or even sorta famous. And people are already bitchin' up a storm because Caitlyn Jenner is gonna receive the Arthur Ashe Courage Award, because these meatheads think it doesn't take much to have a dick and wear a skirt...which I find hilarious, because most of the men I've heard saying that to whatever extent (pardon the expression) wouldn't have the balls to wear a dress in their own house for five minutes, let alone announce to the world that this is how they're gonna live out the rest of their lives.

And we're talking about a man who was once perhaps the greatest male athlete of his generation! Who grew up in an era where men were men and women were women and if you preferred moral sanity that's how distinctions were kept! Yet now, after fighting inside himself for decades, he is able to go in front of a nation who certainly isn't all-in with his decision, and confidently say "Ya know what? I'm gonna start being a her now, thanks." You don't think that takes courage? Balls, even (again, sorry/not sorry)?

Look at it this way: I don't know the exact numbers, but one is too many, and lots and lots of kids die each year because of the abuse they take over their preferred gender or sexual orientation. Whether it's from a parent, or a schoolmate, or some random person yelling "Fag!" out a passing car's window, it doesn't matter. What if that was your kid, or your brother or sister? Ultimately, which would you choose: adjusting your level of thinking to accept a person for who they are and want to be, or burying a friend or loved one because they couldn't bear to hear another person mock or question them anymore? Be thankful you're even given the opportunity to make such a decision...and then imagine what it must be like for a teenager, who is faced with enough problems as it is with social pressures and expectations, to try and cope with a body he or she doesn't want and a society that might not want him or her once they're ready to embrace their own gender preferences. You cannot tell me that once you've picked your lane, going forward isn't a courageous task. It truly takes a special individual, in my opinion, and that's why I think the kind of people so eager to attack a transgender individual are also the least mentally-equipped to handle the reality of finally being able to be the person they were meant to be.

Sports Illustrated actually ran a pretty interesting interview with the Espys' producers   yesterday, in which they break down why Jenner was picked for the Ashe Award as well as publicly debunk the rumor that there were more-qualified runner-ups.

This doesn't explain in any way my point that fear and courage are or aren't mutually exclusive, and this example certainly leads to both working together in a daring pairing of traits...but not everyone gets a chance to be strong when the focus is on them, just as much as you might not feel anything until after the fact.

And I can imagine some people might disagree with me about this entire topic, and that's fine, but if you can't be civil or show even a little bit of empathy, you're probably not the kind of person I want reading my blog anyway, and I won't miss you not participating in what I have to say regarding my opinions.

Ok...here's another song I've probably overshared in the last few years, but seriously maybe if I keep circling around to the same songs, then perhaps there needs to be some prompt diversity (or I should just go back to non-prompt-based entries). But I like this band, and that's all that matters (and at least I've moved on to finding better live versions of the same songs). This will also be on my Karaoke Greatest Hits collection, which has been pushed back to a November 2021 release.

And since you don't have anything else to do between now and then, you can take the time to learn who Hugh MacLennan   was and how he played a role in this song's existence.

"There's no simple explanation
for anything important any of us do."
Lyrics.  

Don't say you've never thought of this before, because you totally have...maybe not as an adult, but still. This guy in Canada (it's not Brother Nature , but no word if it's a relative) tied a bunch of balloons to a chair   and flew over the Calgary Stampede (which is pretty much what you think it sounds like). While it didn't end well for him (he was arrested), it could've been worse (he didn't die)...and it totally reminded me of that one episode of Arrested Development where George tried to do the same thing with a balcony chair in order to hopefully evade the detection of his escape   while on house arrest.

And of course, because I only find cool shit when I'm "looking at the internet" or whatever you crazy kids are calling it these days, those awesome bastards at Mental Floss had to drop this list of moments Arrested Development foreshadowed  , which is great for reminiscing. Or for starting conversations. Or for just being a big ol' friggin' fanboy dork. (Guess which application I prefer to use this information in. )

I know back in May when David Letterman retired I said it'd probably be a long time before I mentioned him again. Turns out two months is a long time...he showed up recently at a performance featuring Steve Martin and Martin Short to deliver a top ten list about Donald Trump running for president  .

And finally, at long last one of the greatest non-Calvin And Hobbes comic strips has made a return...Berkeley Breathed has started putting out Bloom County again  , just in time for another election cycle. I'm very excited to see how this does in an era where he doesn't necessarily have newspaper publishers with agendas peering over his shoulder.

Alright, well, I've taken up way too much of your time and my time, and I suppose we should both be moving on to other things. Hopefully your things will be productive, and mine will be something sorta resembling that. Peace, it didn't come, it doesn't matter, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!