Posts Tagged ‘thoughts


Are You a True Friend/Ally or ‘Expectator’?



This…is…Spart–  Oh, wait.  Wrong movie.  But, it did deliver the same impact-ful question/vibe.

Are you a spectator or the leading role receiving your fill of expectations?…or both?  Or, maybe you just don’t care, either way; your life is a combination of labor and minimal social entertainment, routine and not worth thinking on this level…you’re basically a pack animal.

I had this thought, this morning.  I have received plenty of expectations from people over my lifetime.  I’ve been told how smart and talented I am and what I should do with my life more often I can count.  But, I can probably count on my two hands how many “angels” I’ve met, people who really stepped up to be a friend…however tragically short that time with me was.

And, that, ladies and gents, and boys and girls of all ages, is what my life really boils down to…my productivity has been lacking due to a lack of support, acceptance and assistance.  If you get by without much of that, then maybe I’m just not like you.  Or, maybe you don’t realize what you have.  I know what I have…I just don’t feel it’s enough to make me live nearly up to the expectations I receive.  I live my life, feeling like a disappointment, no matter how I pitch myself…until I tell myself to turn a blind ear (and eye) to those who pitch expectations and just do my own thing…but doing my own thing hasn’t exactly been fruitful because it’s very lonely.

And, all introvert-ish thinking aside, all my ability to work alone and keep myself busy aside, I need people.  I need friends.  I need to know I am good in and out and acceptable, not just tell myself I am okay as I am.  It’s not superficial or looking in the wrong direction for emotional support.  I think it’s just (my) human nature showing its true colors.  But, lacking any adequate social skills, other than knowing how to speak bluntly (which isn’t always an asset…), and occasionally being a good listener (used to be more often, when I had more heart left to share)…I don’t see the means to bringing more people into my life.  And, what I keep finding isn’t filling the “job slots.”  I feel like I’m sitting in some tiny office, expected to hire a company full of subordinates, and I get no callbacks or resumes worth getting a response.  [If that makes sense; if it doesn’t I really don’t care much, anymore.  The old perfectionist, misunderstood me would be up in arms, right about now, tossing papers and fuming…and then collecting those papers because I was once a “neat freak.”]

It’s even more apparent when I try some online games…or, rather, games you can partake online (or offline) and have some kind of interaction…when there’s hardly any interaction.  Do I have to “add 100 friends” just to get a ding or a whoop?  Am I falling short by trying to pick a half-dozen people who I consider up to the task of being a cooperative player?…versus being one of the countless drones who just click LIKE and REPOST buttons in this blog-verse?  [I think, ever since I started bitching about the LIKE button, I’ve received far fewer LIKES; so add one more detail to the “this sucks” pile…not that I cared about LIKES…just, in a sad case when you get no other response…anyway.  Meh.]  Is it all just processing the day, or do people actually care about each other?  Are there ANY genuine friends in this world?  Or, do I just hear stories, like fiction on the wind?  Am I being teased with fantasy and lil wizards who have dead parents?…plenty of the convenient dead parent stories.

When I was a kid, I was “the quiet one.”  I didn’t have automatic friends show up looking for a pal.  I didn’t know how to interact with kids while staying as safe as all the adults wanted me to be.  I was afraid of getting hurt/hit; so sports and physical games were essentially out of play.  When I finally found a friend…and I am not sure how that even happened, other than two guys (and one rare girl) making some joke on the playground which broke the crucial ice…we had to talk the relationship over with our parents; I had to get an Okay to visit or have them visit me.  I had strict rules about phone calls that fluctuated daily, so I never knew where I stood; nor did the friend know how to deal with my parents.  It was a torture-some game of hit and miss time together.  So, to be fair, I couldn’t expect much.

But, there WAS that one girl…the diamond in the rough…who put up with it all and stuck by me.  And, though I didn’t actively support all of her interests…which made me a bit of a spectator but not an “expectator”…I felt I did a fair amount of being there for her…until peer pressure, I suspect, got the best of us.  Having to say, “We’re just…friends,” when your heart is saying “I love this girl, I think,” is rough.  And, the more I denied my feelings or slighted her, the worse I felt.  And, I think, deep down, she knew and felt something, too; or she was just the most loyal friend I’ve ever known.  And, we were not even in the same interest circles, other than maybe video games.  She didn’t draw.  And, I didn’t do gymnastics or think much of forestry…though I’ve grown to enjoy state parks and exploring nature.   But, we got along so well…and I adored her, madly.  She wasn’t the prettiest girl in the class, but she had more class than most; she earned my respect, and then some.  [I’m pretty sure I’ve written about her before; so I don’t want to repeat myself or go on too long about this.]

As I became a teen and adult, after a shocking sex-education class, I had far less luck with friendships and finding allies.  I had plenty of hecklers, jesters, shapeshifters and all-around-lackluster faces around me who had more fun being pests than anything friendly, especially if I didn’t approve of something they chose to do/say.   I get it…and it wasn’t exactly new to me…people changing and turning on me…but I was hoping ONE in the bunch might be as nice as that girl was.  Nope.

In the “working world,” I’ve grazed paths with pretty faces who just couldn’t find a way to fit and guys who’d rather talk sex, sports and music, of which I know less, I guess, and am not particularly into discussing.  I get a rare “We should do something together” offer which goes nowhere for whatever reason; either I can’t get ‘there’ (to where we are to meet) or the other person never follows through with an “Okay, let’s do this; when is best for both of us?”  I have gone on very few dates which all ended badly.  I’ve been a spectator to a number of sour relationships which usually involved quick sex I did not need to hear about the next day.  It’s not exactly a social-friendly atmosphere or sustaining life experience.  It kinda makes this rabbit want to eat in a different pasture; ya know?

And, breathe.  No mas.  ‘Kay?  That was a rather personal explosion and old would I just visited.

So, looking at yourself, on a regular basis, are you a spectator or avid ally/friend?


Who Was Forced Into This World at Birth?


Just a quick/simple question…

Who here was a forced birth? When you were born, did your mother go into labor?…or was labor induced before you were plucked from the womb? And, did you suffer in any way from the forced birth?

[Okay; maybe not very simple.]

I ask because I was a forced birth. And, I was subject to some “birth defect” as a result. And, looking at how my life has unfolded and continues to unfold, I keep getting this rippling, echoing feeling like I should never have entered this world, or this dimension. [Yet, another part of me pulls me in a different direction and tells me I am here for some special purpose that is written in the numbers and stars. It’s an on-going game of tug-of-war inside me.]

Now, after you answer that question, if you care to walk with me, be warned. It gets a bit “heavy.” And, you may feel the ground crumble from under your feet.

As I touched on in a previous post, I see so much in this world/dimension that is wrong and conflicts with my spirit. I’ve endured so much “crap” and see plenty of others suffering even more, at least, in ways I don’t even want to imagine much less see. I see plenty of people living in delusional ways at great expense while plenty more unseen or badly rendered faces get dragged through messes with authorities and militaristic policing forces. And, I start to wonder if the stories we write, so many that have been “dystopian,” aren’t unfolding as we write them…or if certain stories written long ago, perhaps predicted by ancient people, aren’t weaving into existence.

I am divided between the world around me which lacks friendship, self-esteem, cooperation and a little discipline, which settles for and offers little for slavery, lacks glamor/style and divides people like cold fish in a processing plant…and the world I see on TV which is either on the verge of destruction, even total annihilation, or “living the high life” of risk, wealth, drugs, marriage and lust. I see dreamy possibilities but no real and/or pleasant path to achieving them…nor do I comprehend what I would do once I reached that dreamy plateau…which makes all creative efforts fairly worthless, like building a house of cards just to see it fall. If there is a way to reach the “golden city,” it seems paved with traps, deception and torture; is it any different than being lured into biting an apple from a tree you were warned to avoid?

And, while all of this–and more–passes through my mind, I am sure some may breeze by my words and shake their heads or laugh at their foolish nature. You may tell me all I have said makes no sense or isn’t true. But, maybe, that’s just how you perceive this world/life. And, maybe, we each experience it differently. Maybe, no matter how we connect, we are each experiencing this existence separately and only seeing virtual reactions from the bodies/minds around us…isn’t that a terrifying thought?

So far, my only “saving grace” has been to be mindful of the good stories from long ago, of figures like Jesus being of service to others. I tell myself to help others when and where I can; so even if the rest of this life sucks and the world goes up (or down) in flames tomorrow, I can die knowing I did some good.

But, even that feels somewhat sad and empty…or, rather, I feel sad and empty when my thoughts shift to what seems to be missing in this life…love and friendship…comfort and acceptance…being in tune with the natural world as nature intended and feeling the fullness of my spirit as it was created, not simply repeating the words of some fabricated religion, telling myself it will get better. Talk is cheap, as some say. And, I am growing tired of talking. My spirit burns and yearns for something greater. It wants to sink my toes in warm, wet sand and let the symphonies of crashing tides and whispering woods fill it to the brim of zen/blissful completion. But, if this world is so crappy…if everything is polluted and some risk to my being…why? Why do I burn this way inside? Is it a mad trick to torture me?…like dangling a carrot in front of a hungry horse?


A Fatal Choice -Which Do You Choose?-


Let’s say you enter this life and have two choices of how to live.

A) You survive until you are 60 to 110 years old but are doomed to die from a plague sweeping the planet which ultimately touches nearly every person like mold on pumpkins. Your life expectancy is a blend of genetics and whatever man-made products you put into yourself which keep you going as long as you can…as well as bringing you down in the end.

B) You sign a contract or invest in the necessary equipment (sort of like paying for college and all that goes with it to get a degree) to transfer your “doomed” human identity into a machine supplied by a monopolizing company already spreading its financial cloak of dominance over the planet. However many years and however you live those years as a human being are inconsequential; as you will join the collective hive/mind of billions of other robots who bought into this “life insurance plan.”

Which would you choose?

Or, do the prospects of both make you wish you were never born?

[More on that philosophy in a near-future post.]

Just answer the question. Don’t LIKE or star this for later and forget about it or pass it on. And, if it’s not too much trouble, explain your answer/decision; what makes you choose that path?


Wedding/Engagement Alternatives


Wedding/Engagement brainstorm!

So, I’m half-asleep, watching one more lame late-night talk show; and I see Jennifer Lopez talking about her latest marriage/engagement to Alex Rodriguez. I’m thinking…this is what marriage for her? And, how many, like her, go through this rotating stomach turn fest of multiple marriages? And, how many jewelry companies dish out how many ads and how many rings priced how high for this mess?

No mas! ‘Kay?!

So, it hits me like a bullet train outta Tokyo. Bam!

Wedding rings. Wedding rings get bought and boxed. Then they sit in those boxes for a while until the guy proposes, when they go on women’s fingers during a very tense moment. Then those rings sit on the fingers of those women, anxiously waiting for the next step and the next ring, which gets placed on the same finger during a tense moment, in which so much is planned and expected to perform without error.

And then, more often than not, lately, an uncertain amount of time passes before…

The ring gets misplaced.


The marriage grows stale and/or unveils faults which crumble the union, though the ring remains.

The ring goes on, but the marriage does not. Now, what sense does that make? I thought the ring meant never-ending love. So, now, I am inclined to think a wedding ring is a expensive lie and waste of resources.

[Besides, I cannot feel as passionately about a diamond ring as I would/should feel for any woman. I cannot pick out “the perfect ring” for the “perfect bride” if there is even the slightest chance those words will fall short one day. Nor am I a fan of rings, at all, and cannot see myself wearing and caring for one the rest of my life with anyone.]

So…what to do; what to do…

How can we replace something as iconic as the wedding ring? That’s like replacing Coke or Pepsi or the Big Mac. I mean, how can we replace something that has been pitched as essential for so long but isn’t exactly good for us in the long run?

Oh! I got it.


If you’re snickering right now or thinking I am strange, go ahead. Laugh. Then think about this.

Most marriages I’ve encountered, on a level beyond the superficial, newfound happiness or obvious conflicts (IE parents who don’t like the man who has married their daughter and refuse to accept him as their son-in-law), reach a “rough patch.” Those that don’t are typically marriages without kids in which both partners have schedules in sync and they regularly travel or keep up the dating cycles to keep things fresh. That, I think, is a big key–or ring–many misplace or slight. When you tie yourself up with a family, mortage, car, etc., your mind and body get divided; you look at sex differently (especially if you don’t want more kids to throw off your balance…unless you’re those rabbits that can keep popping them out and don’t give a damn how big the farm gets, when you come from a dynasty). Even expenses take on a different light. You reach a stop light where you have to make some key decisions about your habits and/or future. [And, I am not even a licensed psychologist, people!]

Now, what happens when you buy a watch? Well, some go big and buy the expensive watch which costs more than it’s really worth; but some are built to last. Some go cheap and enjoy it as long as it lasts before it gets replaced or repaired.

Repaired. Ah. Lightbulb!

What is a married couple doing when they go to marriage counseling, as many do? They are attempting to repair the marriage…just like a watch! Well, not just like a watch. I mean, sure, there are metaphorical gears to re-align; but no physical metal parts (unless you’ve had a very unusual replacement surgery).

So, why not a pair of HIS and HERS watches, instead of wedding/engagement rings?

That way, when the watch needs a new battery, new wristband, new whatever, you do a marriage check-up (if not sooner). It’s an evaluation period; it’s a reminder to refresh, reset, renew, reboot, wind, unwind…get yourselves back into working order. Maybe a new battery means you need to renew vows or do something you haven’t done in a while. Maybe a new wristband means trying something new together or changing the way you do something that’s become a bad routine/habit.

I know, in this age of everything-on-one-small-screen-you-can-fit-in-that-larger-pocket-made-to-accommodate-those-not-too-small-small-screens, who wears watches, anymore? [Well, I do.] What time is it? Wait; let me open my purse or dig into my big back pocket and pull out my portable clock, or rectangular pocket watch-computer-coupon-book-flashlight-et-cetera. It’s a white rabbit age. Everyone’s late for an important date; and they’re all packing rectangular pocket watches.

But, some watches come with some nice little perks, like heart monitors and step counters, for you exercise-conscious folks who need to mind their shape (and diet). A watch can be an amazing companion, just like a loving spouse.

What does a ring do? Look pretty as long as its polished? Like wearing makeup or getting a spray tan? Hmm.

If you lose your spouse down a drain, did you leave her at some dive bar?

The watch can be just as perfect a choice, with more fashionable choices than I’ve seen for rings. And, it’s not guaranteed to last, to just exist perfectly on its own the way a ring is treated.

You see what I am saying? You buy into the rings and expect them to be there, like the marriage. But, the marriage can fall apart if you’re not regularly attending it. If you can’t attend a ring, if there’s nothing to attend, what good is it? And, how does it keep the union going? By remaining attached to your finger?

So, should married couples remain stitched together or holding hands? That’s not going to work. That’s not going to happen. And, from my limited experience with couples (as I’ve never been married, to tell the truth), no couple needs or should be together every minute of the day, of the week, month, year or decade.

You can keep a watch on as long as you want or take it off, just as you can wear or take off your ring. And, the watch is bound to need a tune-up, now and then. But, that’s okay. And, that’s good. Because you need to remember your marriage needs attending, even if you get divided by kids and all the other financial and social details that get in the way.

I wear a watch. I can do this. I will wear a marriage watch and take it off when I choose, if my lover will do the same. It does not mean we go about “fooling around” as some seem to give reason to removing their rings. Just because we don’t have our watches on doesn’t mean we are single.

So, sure, that may come up as a challenge or problem in social situations when someone sees no ring (or watch) and is inclined to press the question (are you married) or assume single status. But, that’s life. If a question can be asked, it will be, no matter if you’re wearing a significant ring or not. Heck, married folks worm their way into affairs without giving the ring a third thought. So what?

Wedding watches. Engagement watches. Pass it on. I think it’s just the new ring we’ve all been seeking. It’s time to give the old ways of marriage a fresh look and a check-up.

…….And, it all started with the Big Bang.

Why not take this one or more steps further? Why stop there?

Watches just aren’t your thing?

How about a wedding CAR for the couple that likes to take road trips? You propose at a garage, revealing the ride for your next adventure together (versus those car commercials for the well-ta-do family that buys every kid in their family a new car off the lot and tops it with a giant bow). Or, you drive to pick up your soon-to-be-spouse in the new car/vehicle and propose from atop the hood before driving off together to your next destination.

Or, if that’s too rich for your blood, how about a wedding BED? You welcome the soon-to-be-spouse into your soon-to-be-shared home and present the ultimate love nest in the room you share ONLY when you’re happy to share a room that way. [I have a whole thing and other posts about having separate bedrooms for most nights, to preserve the relationship by providing personal spaces/sanctuaries and not sleeping together when there’s a factor causing friction.] You could refresh the relationship every time you change the sheets, replace bedding or flip the mattress.

So, there are three grand ideas. And, I am sure these will help inspire others. There’s no limit to the possibilities…or none I can fit into my mind at the moment. And, if I think about it enough, this post will never reach its end.


What’s Left to Write About? The Fate of Creativity


It’s all been done…said the Bare Naked Ladies long before the Big Bang.  They weren’t kidding.

I feel that periodic urge to pose like that Thinker statue, right now.   Deep Thoughts…by Jack Writingbolt.

I am not a man of few words, yet, even now, I am finding it hard to put into words the panic, dread and frustration I feel at the thought of lacking originality and creativity in this world.  As a creative spirit myself, I feel like a dryad about to lose his tree/forest and evaporate into nothingness…but the world won’t let me.  I’m still here, whether it’s to watch the world decay around me and slowly turn me toward the dark side…or to make some impacting, positive change yet to rock the world (at a time when the average person who rocks the world seems to be a guy under 30 with a huge chip on his shoulder that is never quite explained before he is “dealt with”).

Just the other day, a thought came to me…and this isn’t about one particular gorgeous songstress I admire.  What would song writers write about if they didn’t write about past or current relationships of some kind?  If they didn’t write about how a boss or partner/spouse wronged them or “did them right,” what would fill a CD?  It’s as if the air is so thick with lust and disgust that we can’t think any other way.  I, myself, have heard more than enough talk of sex and material ambitions that mean little to me; I can’t tune out enough…I can’t tune into anything better and am quickly losing my ability to be a good listener/therapist.  [Though, my back massages remain legendary.]

When I think of all the CDs I’ve sampled, I realize, too, what few songs make it to radio and how many more seemed doomed to only be heard by diehard fans.  Is it intentional to disregard the majority of an artist’s work to either sell CDs (and disappoint later) or discourage creativity?

Imagine being an artist hired to fill a gallery with your work.  But, when you present your year’s work, the owner of the gallery says “no” to two thirds or three fourths of it, forcing you to take back some pieces you thought were better than the ones given the “okay.”  How would you feel, after thinking you were free to fill the space with whatever you could do?  Now, imagine how that might affect your output over time.  Would you still make as much?  Change the type of output?  Scrap your whole portfolio and never go to art college?

Now, imagine being a songwriter and putting all of your energy into releasing a new album in time for some not-so-important-but-crucial release date only to milk crap from your teats…and one “hit” song.   [By the way, non-related note, I “love” how Spell Check just checked “teets” and offered “tweets” but nothing closer to teats.]  Tell me I am wrong.  [I’m not wrong.]  You fill the CD with songs about passing fancies with B- and C- list famous names; maybe you get a thrill from flirting with emotional danger.  Maybe it fuels your creativity (because nothing else in this smog-clouded world will).

Then you go about performing these songs at concerts to promote that recent album…and let fans know you still remember every song you ever wrote, just in case one or more wants to hear that song which is personal to you but meant something else to them at a time in their life.  “Oh, sing that song you sang about person A because that was playing when I had sex with boyfriend C last winter.”

Or, tell me concert goers, do these performers NOT sing these songs about past relations years later?   Are they eventually forgotten?  I say this because I know certain groups, like the Rolling Stones and Linkin Park, would perform a wide selection of their work, from start to…well, ultimate finish, in some cases.  I would like to think a performer could just forget some of the work they put out, even if it was made for therapy or just to fill an album.  But, can they?  I mean…it’s out there, in abundance.  It really makes you think about what some say about the internet.  When you put it out there…here…it’s never going away.

So, then I think…

Do these songwriters enjoy reliving every good and bad moment they had in life through their songs?  Or, are they chugging back bottles of acid relief to keep themselves from puking misery every time an unpleasant time replays with the song in their minds?

And then I think…

Imagine getting into a relationship with a musician and having to relive all those past relationships in song and public functions because your “date” is a walking billboard, YouTube channel or “Alexa” for a long list of steamy and heart-break-turned-bitter-revenge creations, like ugly, mean-spirited kids they are forced to tote around in the process of a painful divorce.  It’s like the thought of pairing up with a single parent or “separated” individual.  I’m sorry if I sound cold when I say the oxygen suddenly leaves my body, and I want to pound a table for more air just to breathe, again.  I’m just not that guy who wants to dish about past relations (unless it’s the topic on the table for an inevitable date discussion) or step in as the dad to someone’s kids.  I like to think I am stronger…

And, breathe.  No mas.  ‘Kay?  [‘Sorry if I don’t “hyper-link” that to a previous post of mine so you can read over a string of past thoughts that somehow connect through my blog.  You’ll just have to read backward and be amazed when something connects…or try key word searches.]

Food for thought.  And, on that note (which is quickly becoming my regular phrase and should go on a T-shirt), I have a post about food and how it plays with our minds, coming soon, if I don’t second guess it.


Big Brother (USA) 2019, Thoughts


I’m inclined to repeat myself. But, first…

It’s Big Brother season in the USA! Actually, the season is already nearing its end. I’m a bit late with the announcement. But, I am on time with my predictions of the final results…which have become rather predictable.

How is the show predictable you ask? Let me break it down, one more time.

1) Alliances of ridiculous numbers form rather quickly out of fear of being eliminated too soon…only to crumble by the time the show reaches the “jury” stage, leading to excessive internal stress and drama. It was something done before by someone; so people feel compelled to do the same, as if they’ve joined a fraternity or sorority and want to share coffee over squeals before buying matching sweatshirts bedazzled with trios of Greek letters. It’s like trying to form a human pyramid and hold that position for three months. Even the most miserable stamina challenge on the show doesn’t require that much stationary effort. And, just as bad or worse, the alliances divide the house in such a cliche way. Which brings me to…

2) The division of the “cool kids” and the “outcasts” like an average high-school crowd. Every season, the show recruits “TV-pretty” people and a handful of what I’d classify as society’s rejects, some of which come with oddly respectable job titles and thus make me wonder how this “performance” impacts their careers. How do you know if you’re “cool” or an “outcast?” Well, if your alliance has more than two people but fewer than six, you’re likely an outcast. And, if your alliance doesn’t include the sexiest people the show has to offer, you’re likely an outcast. And, what happens to the outcasts?

3) Outcasts rarely win and “floaters” never win. More often, a certain dominating, “trending” presence starts a train ride to victory early in the game. If an outcast takes the big prize, he or she had to put up with the most crap, witness just about every social conflict and avoid appearing more threatening than the other person on the “chopping block” without being a “floater.” And, when that person wins, it’s as if they were the lesser of two evils, when the other is a “cool kid” who worked as hard or harder to get that far. This outcast is not a “competition beast” nor deserving of any great status. And, they win by the jury deciding to turn on the person who got the most screen time and could be blamed for upsetting the most people. What’s strange is that the winning outcast deserves as much blame for being annoying and deceiving; I have yet to see an outcast retain my support and make it to the final three. On the other hand, I continually find the winner upsetting my stomach for one reason or another. Jealousy? Hardly.

I recall one year when a person I classified as an outcast won. I was rooting for him, at first. But, by the end of the season, I detested him for faking his emotions and for having no emotional connection with anyone in the house; he won like a robot and by the house turning on the one I thought was favored. I doubt he left with any friendships. [But, then again, I could be completely wrong…as I tend to misjudge people and situations that look predictable.] All I know is I went from liking the guy to hating the guy. Unlike the year that cop won; he had skillfully aligned himself with the right people and stayed true to those he called friend (including one I still find annoying).

I understand how deception can be an exciting and challenging tool to wield in this game, but it’s like bad perfume. It messes with people’s heads, breaks trust, ruins relationships… You spend roughly three months in a box with the same (annoying) people, and you’re going to leave with those people in a confused and unpleasant state? If so, you’re likely going to leave with psychological hangups and brain damage. Considering how the results can turn you on your head, why not focus on surrounding yourself with the people you actually learn to like and enjoying the game? Anything else is like me trying to video tape an entire vacation to relive it, later.

And, floaters?

[In case you don’t already know, a floater is defined as a person who essentially tries to look pretty and does as little as possible to ensure they survive the game; they survive as long as they do because the other people in the house ignore them until they come looking for a vote in their favor.]

Often enough, floaters are women (sometimes beautiful women who may or may not require elaborate makeup and hair pieces to look that way) who get brushed aside by competing men (male egos) until the men need a pillow to hold. Floaters last longer than the whiners and foolish challengers of authority but typically get reduced to one by the time there are only four people left in the house; and then that floater’s time to go has come. The one year I see a strong, self-assured woman who could hold her own and dazzle my senses…she breaks her leg and becomes a unique “floater”…sort of a sad charity case and a “whoops” on the show’s part. ‘Didn’t expect the unexpected of breaking someone’s limb in a competition, did ya? Nooo…yer too maliciously excited to test people like rats in a maze. I swear…

4) Some competitions go too far to test these people. I’m not sure when it started, but there are competitions that go beyond what first shocked me on Survivor (another reality TV survival game show that exploits sad people seeking small fame and fortune). Endurance tests are one thing…but throwing everything in the garbage at people, wasting food, making insane messes of the places your crew designs so creatively…and then the risk of actual injury?

I will spend an entire day holding onto a dry tree trunk rather than subject myself to skating across a slippery track just to transport cups of whatever from one vat to another. I will roll my lone ball down that infuriating-ly daunting track in slim hope of reaching the goal rather than risk my neck in some physcial challenge that no one should have to face for nothing. I don’t care what shady deal you work out off-camera with these people. What I see is people getting abused for nothing. They may walk away with forced smiles and say nice things to avoid lawsuits…but, come on! There are too many reducing themselves to cruel deceptive tactics and falling in line with the enemy just to leave and hope they can still piece together their lives (and not sign another contract to do some other CBS reality TV game show to remain a puppet for as long as someone is willing to hold the strings and as long as that puppet holds together).

And, every season ends with the big winner aka the least favored person who steals the prize and drops jaws, the runner-up aka the person who worked the hardest for far less and the Miss Congeniality aka the person (man or woman) who earned the fewest groans and the most smiles.

So, without further ado, here are my picks:

The big winner:  Nick  [The dark horse surprise-er of the season who was on the chopping block only to recover and take the trophy…why? It’s just how this goes; the one you want to win doesn’t, and the one you don’t want to win usually does because the Jury screws the expectations and hard-working cowards like Paul who gave his season 120%. My runner-up pick currently looks primed to win; but that’s not usually how the game goes. However, this season seems set to mirror the previous two seasons by forcing a certain couple to advance their relationship as if you can’t end the summer without casting roles for some marriage reality TV show that puts the Bachelor(s) to shame.]

The runner-up:  Michie aka Jackson  [He is that annoying alpha-male type with an inexplicably sickening weasel-ish-ness about him and apparently favored as the “hunk” of the season; which sadly means the lovely Holly will likely be the third member of the final three who gets bumped at the last possible moment by the two heated competitors.][Note:  The person I usually grow to dislike usually wins, even if I vote for someone else.  In this case, I am not particularly expecting anyone I like to win and don’t care who wins.  So, my aim is likely off, regardless.  But, I am taking a wild guess, anyway.]

Miss Congeniality:  Kathryn  [She is just the biggest bundle of fun and someone I’d be inclined to call a crazy friend, reminding me both of Meg mixed with John, both from season 17.  I would expect her to hook up in some kind of “showmance”…but I happened to notice her wearing a ring and suspect she has an un-mentioned fiancé waiting back home, which is really curbing her “social game” and causing her to joke and laugh nervously.]
Every year I find at least one woman I not only root for but generally fawn over. This year, it’s Holly who rates a solid 8.5/10…sometimes, in special moments, bumping herself up to a 9.5.   [From an online profile, personality wise, she might be more like a 6/10.]  She’s like a somber, tattoo-free Angelina Jolie with geeky glasses, fab hair and an uncanny aim.

Kathryn (or Kat), who has already fallen to Jury with the stunning face of Analyse (“Sis”), is a close second who could be my favorite if she wasn’t so unpredictably crazy; she reminds me just a bit of the cracked dentist who participated a few seasons ago. Why, if I favor them so, don’t I expect or root for them to win? Because, so far, no beauty, no matter how brainy, reaches the finish line.

Not long ago, there was a wee blonde gal named Nicole who went from being cute to annoying, did not win her first season and somehow came back to win another season and marry the saint of that season, a guy I like to think may have been an incarnation of Jesus, the way he presented himself.  I have a hard time accepting anyone named Nicole, now.  But, this year’s Nicole (Anthony) is fairly cute and seems like a great friend type (for me).  [From what I’ve read, she and I think alike and have similar interests and talents…and hang-ups.  Personality wise, she rates about a 9/10.]

So, if you managed to read everything I just wrote, you may ask why do I even bother watching the show? I don’t even watch 75% of what is shown because it’s just rats in a cage, chattering mindlessly, not knowing how to act or feel about anything and ignoring the bigger questions that put them in this space. Sadly, I follow the show for four reasons:

1) I enjoy seeing the interior design of the house and the more creative (not messy, risky or destructive) competitions.

Comic book covers, costume “punishments,” lawn darts with caricatures of past contestants, fake movie quizzes and matching cardboard cutouts with clue-injected scenery? Yes, please. Hanging from some hazardous prop/machine while being slathered with more crap than Nickelodeon can sling at a kid, diving through who-knows-what to find some Double-Dare token and listen to some quasi-evil robot spout off, as if we are encouraging bullies for the farming of tears? No thanks. I’d rather not return to my lackluster life with new problems, including broken bones and some foreign substance in my lungs which will then result in medical bills the show will not likely pay for and which will make the rest of my days on this questionable planet less tolerable.

2) I have a relentless crush on Julie Chen, the host of the American version of the show (also the celebrity and, apparently, the Canadian versions?).

3) I look for favorable female competitors (women I’d want as life partners) and anticipate them winning, which, so far, I haven’t seen one do.

The people I favor–mind you, favor without turning into someone I detest–never seem to win, not even the men. In a rare situation, there was the cop–whose name slips my mind–who was probably the most respectable player to win that I can remember. And, that mohawk- (or faux-hawk?) sporting Paul from a few seasons back went from cowardly jerk to hard-working genius only to get denied the big prize in the end, a prize given to someone who I felt had no business winning.

But, then again, maybe winning the big prize is just the opposite of what it seems; maybe the big winner is really the saddest person who just doesn’t know what’s to come, sort of like Carrie in those scary movies, when she gets dumped on and flips out on everyone. Maybe the big winner is just being tagged the biggest threat to society and paid off with some signatures collected to ensure they don’t explode outside of a controlled prison. Maybe winning is just a ticket into some witness-protection plan for science experiments.

4) I imagine myself in the house with the other contestants and go through a mix of internal torment (imagining me at odds with certain obnoxious people) and wishful thinking (imagining a variety of things I’d like to say and do which I’d likely never pull off without a hitch and likely would go home unsatisfied).


I leave you with these tips, if there’s ever a chance you who read this (or I) gets a chance to play on the game show…I guess you could call this my own strategy, if I was able to participate:

1) Do not form an alliance.

Form a dynamic duo. A solid team of two is sure to see you through to victory. But, if you call someone your “ride-or-die,” don’t bail on them; or you will likely fry…or, at least, lose the right to call that person a true friend.

2) Enjoy the game as safely as possible.

Do not focus solely on winning; you cannot–no matter how you foolishly try–ensure you will win. That’s been proven. [And, I would not be the least bit surprised if the makers of the show didn’t script who will win from the minute they close the decision on a cast of “castaways.”] So, play like you’re in an arcade; and, when the quarters run out, hold your head up and walk away calmly. Even if the show wants to make a fool out of you, do your best to avoid lowering yourself to something you’ll later regret. If saving your face means losing, so be it. The game only lasts a few months. Your life goes on much longer. Plans don’t always go as intended; so why not enjoy the ride? And, if you win in the end, all the better. If you come away with less money, hopefully you’re not out of options.

Playing safe does not mean doing as little as possible or not trying your best. It means knowing when to protect yourself and have values you won’t sacrifice, even if it means losing. Because, very likely, you’ll lose to someone who either is just more enduring than you or someone who will tempt you to be a far worse person than you want to be. What do you expect on a game show with cameras everywhere and an assortment of expectations and restrictions? But, regardless of all that, hold onto your dignity and try not to injure yourself like the lovely Christmas, sadly, did. [Though I don’t think she was trying to hurt or exceed her abilities; she just had an unfortunate accident. And, it’s strange, considering she is/was in such “jaw-mazing” physical shape.] If you need to drop out of a competition to save your joints or avoid sickness, do so.

Personally, playing safe also means not getting involved with petty squabbles which seem to dominate air time. I’m not saying I won’t find or get myself involved in some…but I’d do my best to avoid them and practice the mantra of “No mas; ‘kay?” (an alternative to the trendy “namaste”). If I get involved only to walk away with a volatile pool of acid in my fuming gut, I’ll eventually realize my loss of self-control was pointless. So, it’s best to catch yourself sooner than later, take a deep breath and negate the conflict. Just walk away from the confrontation…unless you are defending your friend. It’s better to defend a friend than yourself because you may not realize you are lowering your own sensibility in the emotionally-charged moment. If you feel yourself reaching for that box of cereal or milk jug and wanting to throw it at the agitator, pause and extract yourself; cast out the anger and/or frustration and step away from the threat. No more. Okay? Save a nerve; ride an HoH or veto competition.

As I’ve stated elsewhere, I can skip over 75% of the show because I am not one who enjoys listening to countless hours of people whispering accusations and fears…or shouting only to be silenced when the FCC detects a unpleasant word. You’d cut out the honest answers from contestants and goodbye video messages and stuff broadcast airtime with the negative/futile-ly heated interactions? That’s just cold and sickening. Why can’t the catty stuff be left to the late-night (Pop) viewers or live-feed chasers? I suspect it’s all worked out in some elaborate, illogical financial scheme.

3) Surround yourself with friends, not enemies.

That doesn’t mean you pick out the other pretty people, even if you are one, or settle into a miserable cave with all of the other outcasts. Don’t keep the biggest jerks in the house for hope of having voters pointing a finger at them and giving you the big prize. By the time you have a chance at that big prize, you’ll have endured more misery than was probably necessary. If you’re going to commit to staying in such a place, be sure you’re among people you can tolerate if not enjoy. DO NOT CAST OUT THE NICE GUY OR GAL WHO GETS ALONG WITH EVERYONE! Do not send the saint to jury or, even worse, the void of no return. [But, then again, maybe it’s better for the saint to be of service and not take the big prize…if there’s some moral benefit in the bargain, if the big prize is, again, not all it appears to be. Maybe the saint is a prize for the viewers to find on their own.]

[On a side note, I suspect the show, off-camera, has some details it ensures are represented, including what I’d classify as token gay people and representatives-of-races-other-than-Caucasian-mutts. And, these select few are somehow guaranteed a slice of TV time, even though the trend continually appears to be the abrupt ousting of black folks and an enduring tolerance of gay players. I don’t want to get racist or sexist, regardless of my personal agitations. But, there sure has been a pattern on the show, especially in recent years. I think it was season one…when an African-American guy made a stink about something (translation: did not get along with so many other “white folks”) and was quickly kicked out, followed by the lone black (or brown) woman on the show. And, I have yet to see a dark-skinned man or woman make it to the final three…which is not a reason for the show to skew anything to achieve such a goal. But, what does that say about the country?…about the people? Is it just the locations from which these people are plucked that generally favor gay folks over other ethnicities? Is it impossible to recruit a more diverse group, versus a majority of foul-mouthed southerners boasting favorable job titles when they act anything but civilized? Are players afraid to pick on a gay player for fear of angering the viewers and/or staff, for stirring thoughts of sexism? Is it just “the way it is” to see diversity fall to the white majority? And, would any other result be forced versus natural?]

Going back to tip #1, regarding alliances…

4) Pick a partner to see you through to the end and be content if that person wins, instead of you.

I think the best way to go into the game is to make one good friend (or, at least, one contact you can rest assured knowing will do something nice with you outside of the game) and be just as happy to see them win as you would be. Instead of gauging who’s the best at physical and mental competitions, catering to televised expectations or reducing yourself to catty, superficial speculations, find the person or people who you would like to see prosper from this experience and be accepting of them surpassing your efforts.

And, when the trendsetter(s) point(s) the finger of rejection at someone, DO NOT automatically side with them or give me that “I sadly vote to evict ___” crap. If you’re lucky, the person you vote against will see you say “sadly” and say, “That’s okay; I know they were pushed into that situation.” If you’re lucky! More likely, you’ll ruin the possible friendship, even if you don’t see why. And, why is the friendship ruined? Because you show how cowardly you are by siding with the majority instead of supporting your friend, win or lose. Voting to cast out your friend is a somewhat silent break of trust that may never be mended, even if it’s just inside a game. If you vote to evict your “best friend in the house,” you deserve to be the next person cast to the curb. If you’re lucky and manage to secure contact information, you might salvage the friendship after the game. [But, I don’t hear many if any cases of that happening; instead I just see pushes for “showmances” to boost ratings and compete with all the false romance game shows being pumped out to compete with the excess of talent shows.]

It pains me to see “power couples” get such tongue-lashings from those who do or cannot form similar couplings. I get it. But, resorting to attacking and/or working on ousting a couple simply because they choose to be a couple is sort of heartless. Even if I had to lose to such a couple, I would be inclined to think seeing the two side-by-side in the final two seats would be sort of blissful…idealistic. I mean, who better to lose to than the one person you favor most other than yourself? Isn’t that truly romantic?…versus heading a catty “alliance” and spending countless hours squirming and shouting over who said/did what and who’s not going to let who go home? It’s no wonder reality TV can’t produce a slice of genuinely lovely reality, because it’s like a lab experiment (poked, prodded, sliced and diced) instead of something formed naturally. The odds of natural happiness forming on TV are so slim. And, I can’t help wondering if any couple from Big Brother, who goes on to marry, isn’t/wasn’t forced into some doomed-to-fail situation purely for insatiable ratings and some undisclosed financial perk.

5) If you offer to be a “pawn,” you deserve to be the next person cast to the curb.

Anyone who offers to be a pawn and survives eviction night is playing with fire and one lucky S.O.B. Unless you know the show is steering the votes in your favor–and how would you (unless we need to go back to a previous point/topic I discussed and review the slideshow)?–why willingly risk your neck in the hot seat, even if you do so with the consent of your most trusted ally? Even if you have his/her vote, you do not guarantee the decisions of the others who could turn in a blink.

Would I even subject myself to be a pawn for the aspirations of love?…I’d be a fool if I did. If I was half of a “power couple” or “showmance” and offering to be my partner’s pawn…I’d be taking a bigger risk than needed, risking the trust of my partnership on a game decision which might be swayed by human forces I cannot control. That’s almost like the deal the couple makes with the rich man who wants to have one night of sex and romancing with the wife. Are you seriously telling me you can accept that at any price? If you can, then why not form a threesome/harem with the guy while you’re at it? You’re just going to say one night is okay for a million dollars? Not me, jerks.


In short/summation, a good friend is worth more than any prize money you may yet lose. To risk everything for a shot at any sum of money is rather heartless. And, I cannot think of any sum worth risking my life for without losing my soul in the process.


In Other T. Swift News… August, 3, 2019


The fires of my feelings for Tay Swift continue to burn and cause me internal upsets as I periodically wonder…and worry…what’s in store for her.  Or, rather, worry what some other prince and big machine…er, corporate nightmare may do.

I am reaching out to the universe to guide and assist me.  And, the universe…and Tay…have a way of speaking.  Or, am I imagining some of these things?

While doing some leisurely shopping with family, I came upon an old CD of Tay’s and *swiftly* purchased it; my first Tay Swift CD (because intense mixed feelings have kept me from investing in the music, feelings I’ve already touched on in other posts and cannot adequately/briefly describe here).  It felt strange.  I felt like some creepy older guy buying a kid…kid’s old music.  The CD was unopened, factory sealed, as if someone had a flash of interest or received it for free and cast it aside.  The cover glistened with gold, screaming SPEAK NOW.

[And, you know what makes that album special?  2010.  Well…it wasn’t the first year I noticed you/Tay.  But, I think, in 2010, I started speaking to people about my infatuation with you/Tay.  My first artworks, of a digital sort, began around 2009, as was a special gift I made for someone, who was trying to secure a relationship with someone she loved, with the words of your Love Story.  I think, as my memory currently fails me (I should have notes on this somewhere), my first glimpse was sometime between 2001 and 2007, before Katy Perry had her debut CD/fans.  But, around 2010, I began admitting my feelings.  When people would ask if I had aspirations to marry her/you, I’d timidly say, “Yeah.  I mean, she’s just…special.”  I’d brace myself for laughter/ridicule and my own feeling of foolishness for carrying such a torch, for essentially being the guy with the poster on his wall and all the other fan swag, though I continue to admit I am not a superfan…more of a personal, sensitive admirer who is vibrating from your aura, not your stardom.]

I felt as if some ghostly hand was tapping me on the shoulder, telling me to say something.  Say what, universal Tay?  What haven’t I said?  What should I say?

Or, have I said something right and am now being heard?  Because I am picking up little signals as if either I am getting through…or someone else is having the same thoughts, and I am just picking up echoes in the airwaves, like seeing a TV show on the west coast a few hours after it already aired on the east coast.

I see a new album on the horizon…titled Lover…and that has me (concerned) something else is on the horizon.  On one hand, I should be happy for her (if it is).  I shouldn’t be casting any doubt or pushing any buttons labeled CANCEL.  But, on the other hand, if I may be so selfish, I hear a lil voice in my head that looks like Tay in nerdy glasses shouting something about sitting on the bleachers.

I just watched a video for a song called The Archer which resonates strongly with me, though the message is a bit cloudy at parts.  Tay, you kinda go in circles with that one.  I presume it’s a meditative tool, a means of looking at yourself in the mirror.  But, it also speaks, as many of your songs do, to some mystery figure either in your life or in your fantasies.  As I listened to the words and music, I felt like I was sitting in some humid room with sun slicing through window blinds and a fan running…and I felt this vibration running through me like I was being probed by an alien spaceship.  I felt half-naked and uneasy, under scrutiny and grasping for understanding.  I felt a ghostly hand reaching out to merge with another.  I saw astrological imagery spanning across a sunrise (or sunset).

I felt like I am/was so close to something real; I can almost smell it.  And, I’m left with an inexplicable ache when the music ends.  I don’t want that to be the feeling I get when I hear her, your voice, Tay.  But, I don’t know how to resolve the feelings I have without you.  Yet, as with many things in my experience/life, no matter what I think, life finds a way.  I just wish and hope the way leads to you and I meeting in the middle.

You see…not a typical fan.  I can’t say I am a fan.  I am an admirer…a fantasy lover…in a little town called WordPress.  [Well, me fantasizing about you as a lover.  I am not sure you’d fantasize about me…but you probably DO fantasize about someone like me.]

Maybe you’re right.  I just need to *calm down.*  [I doubt you’ll forgive me for being a bit gay-phobic, when it comes to gay men, at least.  And, I know I’ve said some hateful things about Ryan Reynolds, but did you have to include him in that video as a painter?…was that a not-so-subtle message to me?]

Stay tuned, Tay fans.  And, send those good vibes and wishes my (our) way.

And, Tay?  YYYou know what to dooo.  [I personally am not sure where else to send my thoughts/words.  The channels are murky at best.]