The Realities of My Situation

I believe in parallel realities.  It’s true. When I was a child, people told me that it wasn’t possible—that there were no alternate universes out there.  They said there were no alternate Cory’s in alternate plains of reality.  This made no sense to me whatsoever. How couldn’t there be an evil Cory in an alternate reality, where Hitler had won WWII? After all, Star Trek, Comic books, and Science Fiction novels were all telling me these things were possible for years. I would rather believe that, like Captain Kirk, I had some twisted counterpart somewhere, menacingly twisting his mustache, waiting to strike at me through some dimensional doorway.

As I got older, I would think back on this belief. I no longer believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or even God for that matter. Why did I still cling to the possibility of a multi-verse? Perhaps what I really didn’t want to believe was that everything we did, every decision we made, was the only possible outcome in living our lives. I wanted to believe that in some other reality, there was a Cory who made different decisions than I had. Perhaps he made them for the better or perhaps he made them for the worse, but at least other options were being explored. I liked the idea that in one reality, I might be an outright asshole, where-as in another I might be a saint. I would spend hours dreaming up these scenarios. The possibilities were endless, and this was comforting to me.

             Now, the idea of alternate realities still sparks my imagination, but it’s not the same belief I used to hold. I have studied a variety of theories pertaining to alternate realities and our universe. It turns out that my belief was a commonly held in the scientific community for many years, but has since been replaced with a new theory that sort of sullies my view of alternate dimensions. They say that there are alternate universes, but that they bare little resemblance to our own. They may have entirely different laws of physics and unrecognizable life forms existing within them. 

For me, it’s kind of a bummer.  The possibilities for my imaginary counterparts are now gone. Hell, even my imaginary counterparts are now gone.  Now all I can imagine are universes where the gravity is ten thousand times stronger than it is here, or where magnetism is one of the weakest forces and the only life form in existence is a sentient gas ball. It’s not exactly limiting, but it really takes away from the human drama. And for some reason, my belief is now less comforting to me. Because believe it or not, the reality of these endless possibilities on a universal scale are still a lot less assuring to me than a famous, evil, Cory, twisting his mustache and waiting for a chance to strike.

Music for a friday night.

   I know I wrote a lot in my last Blog and I also know it's a Friday.  That being, said I thought I would share the music that will get me amped up for a night on the town. I need a pick me-up and a reminder of that things aren't always that bad.

Now Dance.


This is the song that picks me up off of the floor and builds me back up.
 Hustler- by Simian Mobile Disco




This song gets me dancing in the slight disco groove.
   D.A.N.C.E.- Justice


To remind me...
DVNO- Justice (again)



To dance to...
Night by Night- Chromeo



Fuck You- Cee Lo Green
Continue dancing, WITH FEELING



You Dropped a Bomb on Me- The Gap Band

This song is soooooo good on so many levels right now: AND YOU CAN DANCE TO IT!


Six songs to amp up the evening.  Now quit looking at this blog and go dance-party your ass off.

A loose argument for the hearts of men.

It's been a while so let us "catch up" and then get to the grit.

   

The Halloween Party was a smash success. Everyone had a great time and no one died. My costume was thrown together over a couple of hours and it turned out smashing. Ok? Sweet.

Now, my hateful readers, I'm going to tell you about my favorite author/book. I'm not going to bore you to death with some long essay but I do want to share why I think everyone should read this book and why I believe it is an important read: Simply put, I think it is a window into the heart of men. So if a man wants to see his soul written out for him on a page or a woman wants a deeper understanding of how men think and feel; I think this book will fill those needs.  Allow me to explain

For me, the single most inspiring author I have ever read is Ernest Hemingway.  His works renewed my interest in literature at a time when all I was reading were screenplays and comic books.  Hemingway’s writing appeals to me for various reasons. His “bare-bones” take on narrative and prose, his ability to convey emotion through understatement, and the fact that his writing seemed to be written specifically for men: often describing, in perfect detail, the pain and suffering a man can endure on the inside when not actively expressing it on the outside. There is no better example of this than in "The Sun Also Rises"

In “The Sun Also Rises” Hemingway’s style appealed to me, as a reader and a writer, for it’s simplicity. He didn’t go out of his way to be too wordy. He didn’t try and be flashy with his sentences. What appealed to me the most was the fact that he seemed to be very curt.  His prose was filled with understatement, often leaving most of what the characters felt and what they were doing to be described through their dialogue rather than narrative exposition. Even when exposition was used, it was short; like a small paragraph stating that a character walked from the hotel to a bar down the road to get a drink. He never took up too much space on the page, filling it with unnecessary details.  This minimalistic approach never left me feeling underwhelmed when reading his stories, however, because the action, the dialogue and even the written silences told the reader everything they needed to know.

The book felt as though it was written by a man for a man. Which is not to say that women cannot enjoy his writing, but I know Hemingway has been accused of being a somewhat misogynistic writer. He often painted women in a not-too-flattering light and at times painted them in an altogether negative one.  I have often argued that this is not because Hemingway hated woman but because, if his stories were any indication, he kept falling for the wrong ones.

His Character “Brett Ashley” in “The Sun Also Rises” is a prime example. In the story, Brett is a fairly independent, sexually free, outspoken woman. However, she is also rude, confused, she's an alcoholic, and the worst/best thing to come across the narrator’s life in ages. She is the bane of his existence because he is hopelessly in love with a woman who is nothing but bad news. He knows better than to let her in, and he see's her follies. The problem, of course, is that he cannot help but to be taken with her.  And again: it is something that is never explicitly stated within the book, but rather shown, that she emasculates him constantly. It's heart breaking to watch this man try everything in his power to push her from his mind to no avail.

I think every male friend of mine that I have shown this book to has agreed that it’s what the narrator isn’t saying about Brett Ashley that is the most heartbreaking. We get a real sense of how he is feeling towards her by what his actions are, and even more so by what he doesn’t say.  There is a quiet pain and a feeling of swallowed pride present in every action he makes. That feeling is underlying throughout the whole story: The feeling of quiet desperation a person gets when they can't help but to love someone that will do nothing but hurt them. It's omnipresent and always lingers in the back of my mind while reading the story. It's that feeling that breaks my heart every single time I read it. The man would do anything for her and through the story he does so much for her, from giving her a place to stay to saving her from her more self-destructive impulses, out of nothing more than his love for her.  It's terrible and romantic and heartbreaking all at the same time.

 I highly recommend it to anyone. And I recommend it even more to women because of this simple fact:

 All men of substance and heart have traveled this road before. Of this I am sure, or else I wouldn't have had so many heartfelt conversations with guys I know over the subject matter of this book. There is a shared deeply personal understanding of the pain Hemmingway conveys in this story.    

This is something that troubles me. Because I can't tell you how many times I have heard that "all the good men are gone" and that women can't "find the nice guys".  How is that possible?   I interact with these men on a daily basis. Often seeing them chasing the very women who will shatter their hearts. And you know what? I've, on occasion, seen some of these men turn into the womanizing assholes women despise simply because they have met one to many "Brett Ashley's". 

I'm not placing blame here, but I think it should be understood that we're not all heartless assholes and even some of us that act like it aren't: or at least have not always been.  I can share that secret with all of you. I can try to give you a better understanding of how men’s hearts work, but why should I if it's already published in one of the greatest works of all time? If you want to feel man's truest of pains or damn near live through it first hand, then read "The Sun Also Rises". 

And to any woman out there who hates a man at this time because of the things he's done or the hearts he's broken; be comforted by the fact that, no matter what, all men one day meet their own Brett Ashley.

Halloween Countdown

 This year marks another Halloween party that I will be co-hosting with fellow housemates although this year I am in a new house. I intend to bring the same epic enthusiasm to the party as usual, though I'm not exactly in Halloween spirits this year. My costume is far from done and I can't say I've really placed Halloween as a high priority this year. Take solace in the fact that I suffer, my hateful readers, even on a night I celebrate with year round anticipation.

This year will be another themed group costume with my usual halloween cohorts. This year will one again be post apocalyptic as we have done a similar costume before. Although to be fair, the costume theme at that time was "Road-Warriors".

I thought this would be a good opportunity to share some of the costumes I have constructed in the past and share them with everyone.

Lets start with a costume I made that, though wasn't for Halloween,  was pretty awesome and deserves to shared.


A long time ago, in the year 2004, a group of friends and I decided to stage an event called "BoxFight" where we created robo-costumes out of card board to battle each other with. It was good fun. There were a lot off politically driven box costumes there that we pit against each other, but the grande finally was something special.

Myself and 3 others made 4 very special costumes.
 A friend and I chose to be to be Airplanes, while 2 other friends chose to become Twin Towers.
We then re-enacted history.

Let the terror begin.

Planes and Towers collide

 And Just like on that historic day, no one won.



That year for Halloween I took a few months to grow my hair so that I could style it in a very recognizable hair style. That was the year I went as Wolverine. Not dressed in super hero attire but in the cost friendly street clothed "Logan" costume.


All it took was some jeans, a mock bomber jacket, a plaid shirt, and some claws fashioned out of coat hangers, some card board, and silver chrome paint.  The hair was styled with the use of knox gelatin and a hair dryer.

All in all I really enjoyed that costume a lot.



Cue the next year, where I used...
a red shirt
a hat bought at sears and painted by myself
a pair of oilfield overalls
2 yellow circle pieces cut out of a panago pizza box
some black crape hair and some spirit gum
and a pair of white gloves and brown shoes

....to become Mario.


Another year later was the aforementioned "Road Warrior" Halloween. Where some friends and I used old sports equipment, fur, old clothes, face paint and chains to create that wonderful Mad Max style.

I was the guy in the red face paint.

There were a couple of shitty Halloween costumes between then and 2008 that I don't really wish to share.

By 2008, though, we were back in the halloween groove, and a group of friends and I put a lot of work, effort and money in to fashioning and sewing together some of the best Halloween costumes I have ever seen. Mine was done with a lot of help from a friend (Alecia) and I think it turned out wonderfully.
We went as some DC comics superheroes.

(from left to right) Martian Manhunter (Kalvin), Wonder Woman (Nelle), The Question (Brent), The Huntress (Alecia), Lobo (James), Captain Marvel (myself)

The tights were fun but they made my ass look like a red tomato.

And finally in 2009 we ordered in some costumes, as we new from the previous year how hard and stressful sewing group costumes could be. There was still some sewing, and constructing, and hair dyeing involved, but it was a lot less work when we ordered the shirts off of Ebay.

The costumes? Star trek.

Bones (Brent), Medic (Amber), Kirk (Cory) Yeoman (Nelle), Spock (Kalvin), Orion Slave-Girl (Alecia)

I was finally able to become Captain James T. Kirk, whom I have always felt a great kinship with.

This year we decided to go "post apocalyptic" although I haven't really started my costume yet. Halloween is only two days away and as you can plainly see, I have a lot to live up to.


Wish me luck.

Give Her Fiction.

     I would never go as far as to say I was a poet. However, I do take a creative writing course in school that forces me to occasionally spread my creative wings.  That means I have written a couple poems now and today, in my first ever blog post, I will share one.

    First off I would like to point out that I'm a little fascinated with relationship dynamics. Perhaps it is because I haven't been able to keep a relationship going for more than 1.5 years. The ones I'm in tend to burn bright and fast, before quickly turning to ash.  The reasons for this always seem different, even though some of the same issues are always present.
  
    In any case, this poem dealt with one of those issues that I see repeated in some of my relationships and the romances of others: the pressure of living up to fictions (or really, failing to do so)  and the rather fantastic, unrealistic identities we create for each other.

Give Her Fiction

At first, all we would do was talk.

She would speak to me as though

I was the only person left to hear her.

She would listen to me intently

and we would begin to share.

She would tell me stories.

They were like predictions for our lives,

of adventures we hadn’t yet had,

near our home and in faraway places.

They were tales of our future told in the past tense.

I, in turn, would dismantle our past

so that I could re-write our history.

I’d turn the mundane into the extraordinary,

with misremembered hardships

that we had only overcome together.

We didn’t live a lie, per se.

The truth was what we made it.

She would scoff:

“Isn’t that true of everything?”

And laugh in the face of reality.

I loved her enough to continue the charade,

to join her daily exercise:

conjuring up the story of us.

The more that was said by her and me,

the less I could live up to.

There was a difference between I and the fiction of “I.”

“I” was madly in love with her.

And she was madly in love with “He.”

And he and I were no longer the same.

And she preferred the fiction.

Knowing that truth would never be enough,

I transcribed for her a lifetime

and placed the fiction in her hands.

She embraced the story and kissed me goodbye,

And I knew I would not be missed.