Rant

Come on in and enjoy a few shouts of annoyance in this beautiful place.  I may throw something, so be ready to duck.

Ok, so the comic series/graphic novel (depending on the format you bought) was freakin' great.  It was a new story, a new take, and brilliantly violent and funny.  The movie Wanted was the dumbest fucking thing I've ever seen.  Why would Freeman agree to this shit?  Why was Angelina Jolie in it?  Who was that fucking loser playing Wesley?  It was so bad I considered destroying my pretty new TV so it could be released from its shame for having to show such an incredibly useless bit of film.  Seriously folks, go read the comic.  I'll loan it to you.  You'll love it. 

And again, Jolie, how does she keep getting jobs?  Well I know how.  She's accepted as hot (I don't find her hot) as will get naked on film.  Joy.  She only does crazy well, and even that seems less acting and more that she's actually fucking crazy.  Goddamnit people!  Stop the mediocrity and stupidity!

Ok.  So.  Young ladies.  Stop taking pictures of you and your friends posing together like you're posing for 'Effbooks Next Top Slut.'  Really.  I'm sick of it.  I'm fed up to fucking here with it.  And learn to set some fucking privacy settings.  I'm all for the embracing of sexuality as a part of your identity, but when EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PICTURE LOOKS LIKE IT SHOULD COME WITH A PRICE LIST IT MEANS YOU'VE LOST THE FUCKING POINT!

Ok.  I think I'm done for now.

Mom said to do it

Come join me for another late night fire.  Insomnia seems to be my curse right now.  But the weather is nice, the night is gorgeous, and the fire is just perfect for warmth and cooking.  Feel free to partake of the bacon'n'cheddar smokies.  Oh my those are good.

So if you've been keeping up, you've probably read my mom's comment on the previous post.  She said name what I wish for.  So I thought I'd do that. 

Well first I want to finish this paper, which is the application of the Anishinabe philosophy of Bimaadziwin to the character of Leopold Bloom in the Cyclops chapter of Ulysses.  It's turning into quite a fun journey.  So that's number one.

Number two, apply to grad school and get accepted into the Masters program for English, where I hope to write a proposal for a thesis on Utopian lit, and how it appears to be European interpretations of the FN lifestyle pre-contact.  While doing that I would love to teach at FNUniv.  Particularly the lab portion of their version of the University 100 course.  As well it would be wonderful to do introductory English or Indigenous Studies courses. 

Once that's done, I'd like to apply for a Ph.D. program in Multidisciplinary Studies, with the intention of proving a distinct connection between exposure to First Nations Culture and the massive political changes in Europe, such as Communism, the French Revolution, and democratic expansion in the world. 

My intention in all of this is not to create a voice of resistance in a colonized world.  Resistance implies a deficiency, which is something I don't find in Anishinabe philosophy.  I want the world view of First Nations and other aboriginal cultures to be recognized as just as viable, just as applicable as anything created by European schools. 

Once that's done I want to help recreate full programs at FNUniv, to bring it back to the levels it should be at and eventually make it a world class educational institution. 

Why think small right?

Success and Failure

Come on and sit down with me.  I've got a few things I'd like to say to you, just us here in this cozy place.  Y'see I'm a little scared of what's coming and I thought if I owned it, the coming events might not be so scary.

I am, at my heart, a self-destructive person.  My own best interest rarely wins in my judgments, and that means for the major things in my life I've failed.  This isn't easy to admit, because, well, my own view of myself that is coloured by the opinions of others is that I'm a rock of strength, someone to lean on when times are rough, a strong defender of what's right, a comforting shoulder to help the weak continue on, and a keen observer of events to record and take witness of the world.

Unfortunately there's this disconnect.  I mean shit, it's two thirty in the morning and I'm writing a blog post while I've got classes at 10 am tomorrow.  Not the best approach when you've got to be keen for a presentation.

So here's the deal folks.  I've never succeeded at anything major in my life.  Three failed major relationships, well four to ten if you count all the times the last one broke up, came together, broke up, ad nauseum.  I'm sure my friends all appreciated that litany of complaints.  Three failed careers.  The casino, security installations, and StarTek, where I was pretty freakin' good at what I did.  And I'm not the most attentive person when it comes to my family.  I'm sure my kids find me a bit harsh, stern, and perhaps even cold.  I've pretty much loused up the lot of them, although with the kids that remains to be seen because I have turned a corner.

Going back to school was the best thing I could have done.  I love doing what I do in academia, and wish to continue it.  Not as one of the intelligentsia, not as a gilded tower academic, sitting on high and judging those beneath me with words that won't matter.  Naw, I'm a workman of scholarship.  I have to be.  Me noggin's got some injuries and sumnat.  The number of concussions I've had has pretty much assured me of a life of depressive episodes, memory lapses, and perhaps even another life threatening disease as I get older.  Oh Joy!

But that's another post.  Here and now I'm telling you what I'm afraid of.  I'm afraid of succeeding.  This is my last semester before I get that degree, and already I can feel this edgy darkness creeping around the den.  I can feel an urge of insanity pushing me to get all crazy with my bad self, and reassure the rest of the world that even when we're at our best we can fail miserably.  I'm terrified that if I do this the expectations will be raised, and they're already plenty high.  I am near panic just contemplating the future and how well it might go. 

This isn't a complaint, or a warning.  Instead, this is an honest and open request for help.  You're my family and I feel that we all owe it to each other to continue to push the other to bigger and better things.  So if you see me doing the things that may cause a rupture in my damaged mind, point it out.  I won't take offense.  Well not for long at least.  So please, give a hand, if you see me stumble, a little push back up, and if you see me heading for the hinterlands, tranq dart my ass and drag me back to sanity.  Trust me, in the end I'll definitely appreciate it.

*Sparkly Snap*

Wow, that fire is big tonight, it's just roaring!  Love it!  And it keeps the brain flying.

In case I haven't mentioned this, I have a TOTAL thing for Redheads.  Like the Irish red head thing, pale skin, red hair, big bright eyes, buxom.  Oh that's another good word!  So I had my little memory trip there and suddenly another popped into my head.

So this one is funny.  It's funny for a couple reasons.  I'll let you pick them out.

So time-wise, this is about 12 or so years ago, and I'm working at the casino.  I loved dealing, it was so fun.  So I'm dealing blackjack one night, and it's a pretty quiet table.  I'm buzzing through the decks, making little chatter with the customers, having an ok time, mostly cuz the table is just being quiet, gambling zombies shuffling forward with their wallets open. 

And she walks up.  She, because I never got her name.  She because I'm quite certain that I would define her as the most shining example of beauty I've ever laid eyes on.  She because everything else around me closed down and I stopped mid-deal to stare at her with the unabashed directness of a 12 year old boy staring at a desperately wanted item. 

I'm not sure how long I stared.  Everyone else at the table was watching and it was like a bad movie moment.  Y'know, Garth and 'Dreamweaver' without the rock t-shirt.  And without preamble, without any more tact than an addict going through DTs given their drug of choice, I half moan out in pre-orgasmic tones, "You're gorgeous."

No one laughed.  Everyone just kind of stared.  And she smiled.  Like an angel bestowing grace it made me tingle everywhere.  She sat, and I dropped my worshipful gaze back to the task at hand, dealt it out, then took her money and changed it in for chips. 

I had no idea where to start.  No one at the table was talking and I knew I had to say something to prove I wasn't hired under some special  'Teach a Tard to Deal' program at the casino, or else the only memory this goddess would have of me was the kind of moan a puberty burdened teenager might have seeing their first porno. 

And yet, the goddess was a forgiving, and giving deity.  "You're a really good dealer.  You know any chip tricks?" 

"A couple."  Next blackjack, I spun the 50 cent piece spin on top of the stacked chips. 

My skills with cards and chips then decided to fully shine.  I sliped cards into my hand, riffled them back and forth, spun chips, and chatted with this gorgeous woman.  We joked, we laughed.  And my hour on the table slid by way too fast.  With regret, I logged out of the table, went on break, and shakily downed a number of cigarettes. 

I came back down, logged into the next table, looked up, and my goddess had followed me.  She came to me.  I continued my impressive display of skill and wit.  We laughed and enjoyed.  After a while, in which I'm sure she told me her name but memory fails me now, she hinted at not knowing anyone like me.  I must be just a fantastic person.  "Naw, I'm just a guy with a kid, workin' a strange job." 

"Oh, you're married?"  Disappointment.

"Naw.  I don't think I'm capable of that.  Single dad."

"Really?  A single dad, my you are impressive."

"I just love my kid you know?"  But not myself.

I never caught the hints.  I never figured out it was an opportunity, not until many years later when I had a head slapping moment of pure disgust.

My Fairy Tale

Come on in, grab some of that wood on your way past the skins.  The fire needs to be stoked, it's so fucking cold.  I'm someone who likes cold, so when I start complaining about it, it's fucking cold.  So a comment from the always wonderful and awe inspiring Cori sparked a memory.  A fairy tale.  You know they never end well right?

I was 19, spending my time in university getting drunk and playing on a ShadowRun MUSH.  That last word is an acronym for Multi-User Shared Hallucination.  And I met this girl.  She was a wonderful girl, full of verve, exciting ideas, great role-player.  So we started talking over the phone.  And we both became infatuated with each other. 

I've looked back at that time and I'd love to cast aspersions on why she chose me, but y'know what, I think we were both at an incredibly low point.  And we clung to each other as we sank.  Fortunately I also think we needed each other, and we created one helluva young woman.  But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

So summer is coming and I've pretty much skipped out on all my finals.  I'm lost in this bizarre space of complete failure and the depression that comes with it, and a euphoric high from finding this one perfect girl.  And so I did what any irrationally in love teenager would rationally do.  I told her I was going to come visit her for a week.  My mother was aghast, her foster parent was aghast, everyone was ghasting all over the place, but y'know what, they let me go.  They let me gas up my 1975 Dodge Dart, and drive half way across a continent to hook up with some puppy love crush.

And my dad said, 'Well it could be worse.  They could be planning on both coming back together.'

We had a wonderful time together.  We visited with her foster parents, two different sets.  Spent a week at Old Orchard Beach, a wonderful resort town in Maine.  And being teenagers we spent most of our time naked.  My favorite memory of the place is after our second night there.  We haven't come out of the hotel room for about 40 hours or so.  I finally decide, despite my fear of that much water, I have to walk in the ocean. As we are heading down the stairs, an old couple a few doors down from us comes out, and the old woman points, and in a joyous voice exclaims, "Oh that must be that young couple that was making all the -noise-."  She seemed genuinely happy to see young love.  And I certainly wasn't embarrassed. 

As we got to know each other better, biblically as well as life stories, it became apparent she had nothing to do for the summer but sit around in some little podunk town in the hills of Maine.  So I invited her back to the homestead over the summer.  I knew I couldn't pay for my room and board, and I knew the university was going to kick me out, so I had already arranged to go back home for a bit, maybe stay with my grandmother.

I phone home and tell my parents.  And dad says, "Well it could be worse.  He might've asked her to stay for longer than the summer.  Hell he might've asked her to marry him."

As we made plans for our departure, I did just that.  One knee on the floor board of my car, with a thirty dollar gold band, I asked my fairy tale girl to marry me.  She could spend the summer and then we'd work out the arrangements for her to move to Canada permanently.  There was some border problems, but eventually we made that half-continent drive back to Rejayjay.  I got a job with a handyman in a little town, we stayed with Grandma, and I looked for work back in the city.

That didn't last long.  We missed out computer time, and being around each other all the time was already showing out differences.  But the sex was pretty damn good so we had that.

And dad said, "Well it could be worse, she could be pregnant."

I woke up one morning in my room and board place, knowing we were going to get kicked out soon, to find out my girl was with child.  And I was overjoyed.  Dunno how often I've mentioned this, but deep down, I really want to be married, to be with my kids, to just have that not-so-normal family life TV programmed into my brain.

And dad said, "I hope you two are always happy together."

Fast forward some.  We've gotten married in a civil ceremony.  Little Bear is born.  I work as the casino as a dealer with very odd hours, and we live in an attic apartment downtown.  I run some ShadowRun games for friends, who have been incredibly supportive.  We've asked for money from family for the immigration process (I'm sure it's more now, but then it was going to cost about 2 grand) and we fight.  We fight over computer time, we fight about money, we fight about going out, we fight about everything.

There are good times, don't get me wrong.  But it is not good.  And we both know it.  She starts to have online affairs with other people, and I'm getting more and more frustrated with how horrible my life is.  Oh and the folks who own the house and live below us have called social services a few times about noise.

We sit together in our bed one night, and she tells me something that destroys me, and I still remember it to this day.  "I need to leave.  I can't keep lying to you.  I didn't love you in the beginning.  I've come to care for you so much because you're an incredible person, but I don't love you."  And the dashing knight of our fairy tale is defeated by the terrible dragon.  Redcrosse and the three Sans right there in a dinky attic apartment. 

So she took the money that was supposed to go to her immigration process and left.  With the Little Bear.  Who came back to her Daddy.  But that's a story for another time. 

Toss some more wood on the fire would you?  Get the dry stuff though, this wet wood is getting too much smoke in my eyes, making them water.

Two of the Best Lines from the Best SciFi Series EVAR!

Come on in and enjoy the fire, watch it flicker and it will bring you delights.

So I love Babylon 5.  I think it was quite possibly one of the best shows ever created, easily the best science fiction show created, and was the precursor to any show that used/uses a story arc longer than a few shows.  Hell, the creator, who's name I can't spell, pitched it as a FIVE SEASON story arc.  And it was a magnificent five seasons with a few associated TV movies. 

It's treatment of the various themes it tackled was impressive and never about clear cut right and wrong.  Turns out acquiring space travel doesn't make the world a better place it just makes things more complicated.  Wait that's like everything we know of so far!  Love the show.

And it has two of the greatest lines EVAR delivered, both by females, both filled with menace and promised violence, and both so awesome, that this blog post may be too awesome for the average viewer.  So take it in steps, don't tax yourself, and if you have to ... leave the website and hit the youtubes to jack/jill off to the awesomeness seen here. 





Oh so tasty, so awesome, so good.  C&C out.

The craziness

Come on in and enjoy the fire.  Don't mind the tears, or the tears.  The drops from my eyes are just the rents in my mind, soul, and body releasing themselves.  But just be warned.  None of what you are about to read is pleasant.  (Author's note, the reading is better if you turn on the video as you read)



Y'ever lay a real beating on someone?  I mean the kind where you can feel flesh and bone change shape beneath your hands, feet, teeth, and other instruments of destruction?  There is an atavistic pleasure that comes from violence.  There is something gut wrenching honest about in-your-face, straight up, physical destruction.  I've been on the end of both, giving and receiving.  And lately they've been on my mind. 

I ever tell you folks about one of my favorite fights?  Woulda been grade eight, many moons ago.  I had this one real prick giving me the gears, thought he was tough cuz he took some martial art.  Don't get me wrong folks, I'm a big fan of the various fighting forms, but let's just say I follow the 'James Brown Top Fight Academy.'  I don't know Karate, but I know ca-razy.

Anyways, I was leaving school late for some reason, had a couple people waiting, including a couple girls who I had crushes on, but wouldn't give me the time of day.  They liked my buddy Lee.  Shit, if I was gay or a straight chick I woulda wanted Lee too.  Dude's probably still gorgeous.  Anyways.  They're down at the street, and I'm coming out of the school, and there's this slope down to the sidewalk, and around the door is one of those industrial pipe fence things they put in school yards to let you really feel like cattle.

That's when prick boy, who I didn't see in the corner around from the door, starts in.  Callin' me fat, and stupid, and a variety of other things that he knew would hurt me.  And I decided to walk away.  That's what I've always been taught, ignore the words, just keep walking, be the bigger man.  But that's when I catch sight of the girls.  They're both laughing.  And that was it.

Now let me be honest here folks, when I'm just toolin' about I'm pretty clumsy.  I trip over shit I can see, I constantly have cuts all over my hands from work, in general I'm kinda klutzy.  But it's more carelessness than ability.  The flip side to that is, when I need to, I'm the fastest, most graceful, powerful pagan beast you've ever seen.  I'm capable of superhuman feats that would make your eyes pop, jaws drop, and bowels void.

So I spin, and drop my bag, and launch myself back up the hill.  Prick boy is laughing at first, because he thinks that the cattle guard will keep him safe, until I do a one handed vault over it like a freakin' gymnast, and launch myself at him.  He goes from laughing to all wide eyes and raised hands in fearful supplication.

One leg hooks behind his feet, and I shove, launching him back and down, before following him to the ground with a knee jack-knifed down to catch him in a sensitive place.  Oh, right, I don't play by the rules when I fight.  I just go for maximum damage.  The knee catches his hip and I slide to the side, my hands grabbing his upper arms as my head comes forward, and I smash my forehead into his nose.

After that it gets a bit blurry.  Both because I had the red mist going, and there were tears in my eyes.  In case it wasn't also apparent, I cry at the drop of a hat when I let down the walls.  What I do remember is me screaming 'Still wanna be funny?!' at the top of my lungs as I laid my hands into every soft part I could find.  I know he rolled onto his side away from me at one point so I started laying knees into him.  And it was a one sided beating folks.  He never even tried to fight back.  He never had a chance to.  I've been told when I get full of fury I'm one of the scariest looking motherfuckers around.  That fear freezes people.

So this probably didn't go on too long because the other kid walked away.  Wobbly, but he was at school the next day.  Two big black eyes, limping, didn't do gym.  Anyways, my screaming, which was at the top of my lungs, and probably can drown out air craft, brought the teachers, three of them, who hauled me off prick boy.  I'm sure I was still scary.  They didn't try to detain me, they just screamed at me to go home and they'd deal with it tomorrow.  I stared at the three of them between me and my victim, and stalked back down the little slope.  One of the girls who was laughing, was holding my bag, and as I approached asked, 'Holy shit, how did you do that?  You were ... I mean, how did you jump that fence, it's four feet high from this side.'  (Aside, said girl spent that spring dry humping me in the little island in the stream in A.E. Wilson Park, so I guess I made an impression.)  I just grabbed the bag and said, 'I just did.'  And started stalking off.  I didn't care if they followed.  Because mainly I was pissed.

I was pissed because they denied me my victim.  I wanted him to feel pain so bad he'd never ever talk any shit again.  I was pissed because I lost control.  I'm dangerous when I lose control.  I know that.  Out of control Coyote causes world ending floods of pain and grief.  I was pissed because I hurt someone.  I knew I hurt him.  He didn't get up and scramble away when the teachers hauled me off him.  I hoped and dreaded that an ambulance might come for him.  I honestly cannot stomach real violence after the rage passes.  Consider it some psychotic break in my brain, but I can dish it out but afterwards I am torn apart with sorrow for my actions.  I was pissed because the girls were laughing.  Who cares if they noticed me now, they were laughing before.  Geez-us why did I let their laughter get to me?

The next day at school we both got hauled into the principals office.  Me and my victim.  My rage was gone so he was safe.  But my friends had mentioned how he had been harassing me for weeks so we both got off with warnings.  And prick boy decided it was much better to be Coyote's friend.  We were joking about the principals name by the time we left the office.

That one's my favorite because there was no lasting bodily injuries.  Well I'm sure the guy snores now, his nose was pretty damn pancaked.  But I like it because I still remember most of it.  Others, I don't.  I don't know why I had a lot of blood on the cuffs of my jeans as me and a friend ran away from a bar late one New Years Eve.  I don't remember why I've woken up after a hard nights partying to find my shirt has blood and tears all over it and my muscles are aching.  I've heard stories, but I wasn't there.  You might blame it on the booze, but I know it's the red mist, the rage.  Disappearing inside myself to enact violence that I normally never would. 

Now there is a certain insanity to admitting this but I've often said that unless we're willing to own all out mistakes we'll never get any further down our individual paths.  And I'm sure some of you will read this and go 'I knew it, the guy is a psycho.'  Oh well.  Not much to do but to admit it.  Sure.  I'm a little bit outside normal.  But there is a point.

The point is this, despite those mistakes, they have not repeated themselves for a long time.  The rage has come but has been held in check.  And right now, despite the uneven mental stability right now due to some chemical imbalances from giving up an addiction, I'm still keeping it under control.  Mostly that means me hiding out in my home but it has had a few moments where it could have gone and didn't.

Yah me?

I'm just diggin' on that cosmic vibe

Come on inside, the den is bundled up against all this snow, but the fire is just perfect, warmth and light that lets us sit and talk for a while, and just dig on that cosmic vibe.

I ever tell you folks I like to sing?  Love it.  Not that great, but y'know what's funny?  There's a lot of dogma out there that is the same as the Christian phrase 'make a joyful noise.'  Of course, even non-joyful noises bring something to the soul. 



This is what I'm listening to now.  It's a 'what if' song for me.  In case I haven't mentioned it to you folks, my dad killed himself.  He was an alcoholic, shot his girlfriend, shot himself.  [edit] He died at the scene, his girlfriend died several days later in hospital. [edit done, thanks for info from the Sky Woman]  I was six.  What if he had lived?  Would he be with my uncles out in that sweat lodge?  I dunno.  Part of why he wanted to kill himself was that expectation. 

Ahh now Sarah, well a remix of 'Into the Fire.'  Just vibe folks, say what comes to mind, share what's there, me I'm just going to keep going along this little path in my brain here.

The rage dumps are happening with the quitting smoking thing.  I barked at a customer on Saturday.  He kept saying bullshit to me while I was trying to explain something, and then called me 'Sir.'  I saw red and lost it.  I mean really, you wanna swear at me and then politely refer to me as sir?  And it was polite.  If it at least had been somewhat sarcastic I might've let it go but man did that push my button. 

Remember a while back when I mentioned, the healthier I get the higher my libido goes?  ... Right then, moving on.

My mom said I need to find my 'dove-y-ness.'  I think I told her to sit on it and rotate.  The frightening part?  I'm WAY calmer than I was ten years ago.  Damn how did you folks who have known me that long put up with me?  Thanks.

I keep getting set off when I read the rejection of my honours thesis proposal.  Don't worry folks, doesn't mean that's over or I won't graduate.  Just means I gotta rework it a bit.  Here's the thing.  I have no desire to 'resist the dominant culture.'  I'm a part of the dominant culture.  I may follow Anishinabe spirituality but that doesn't mean I don't take advantage of that wonderful white bias in our culture.  And my thesis, which boils down to applying my life's path to Ulysses, is not about trying to resist the dominant culture.  I want to embrace it in my way.  There is a real difference there.  Colonization isn't all bad.  I just think we all need to own up to our mistakes.  And to quote the indomitable Cenobyte, be nice to each other. 



Yeah I'm a romantic.  If you read this and know who you are?  Yeah.  I am ready now to fall.

Y'know what I did the other night?  I was starting to boil.  The thunderheads in my brain were reaching full on force of nature destruction event.  I was reworking the proposal.  So I went outside.  In the snow.  And I stood in the street.  I watched the street lights get caught in the snowflakes, refracting back bright points of light, sparkling as it laid across everything.  And I breathed deep.  I let that cold air flow into my body and closed my eyes, closed my ears, closed my body down, and let that cold air just flow.  I opened my mind, and let the spirit of everything around me speak.  I let that deep earth chatter start in my feet and flow up until my body was little more than a conduit for the universe. 



It's kind of nice knowing my goal.  Knowing my purpose and path.  And I can see a very long way.  It's nice being able to grab that spark of spirit outside of me and listen, just grasp onto the edges and watch it all unfold.  The path I walk is so small yet so very big.  Luckily I have good guides.  The darkness is closing in, but that's alright, with large eyes I see, with keen ears I hear, and with an open heart I proceed.

G'won, say it with me.

Come on into the den.  The fire is low cuz the weather is just beautiful.  And me I've been thinking about the whole act of white washing history.

I like that term, white washing.  Because it is what is happening.  The folks in power (white folks) who are ashamed of parts of their history, either ban it or edit it.  And this whole Huck Finn thing is like that.

I know that's not the actual genesis of the term but that's my take on it.

So here's the thing, I've listened to a couple different interviews with the English prof who edited this new version that takes out the 'bad' words, and his intentions are sound.  He wants the actual issues of the book to be taught, so why not take out the offensive bits?  Seems fine.  But I dunno.  It just seems to ring a bit hollow for me.

Cuz here's the thing.  I'm kind of sick of other people assuming that exposure to bad ideas will somehow make someone want to try them out.  My take is if someone is going to think a bad idea is worth doing, chances are they were going to do a bad idea anyways.  But that's not really my problem.

My problem is the word itself.  What word?  Naw, I'm not dancing around it.  I'm just setting this little part up as a warning.  I'm going to be liberally using racial slurs.  If the mere use of them offends you, then step away from the blog and head on out to less controversial topics. 

Nigger and Injun.  Those were the two words changed.  To Slave and Indian.  And I just don't get it.  Well I kinda do.  Let me tell you a story.

My sister is a post colonial theorist.  And we were at my brother's place for a party and I heard her say 'That word is just so offensive that I never want to hear it.'  And I went 'What word?'  'The N-word.'  'What nigger?'  THWACK!  I get punched.  'Don't say it!  It's a horrible dirty word!'  'Nigger is not a horrible dirty word.  It's just a word.  Intent has to be considered.'  *THWACK!*  I get punched harder.  'Don't say it around me!'  'Why?'  'Because I find it truly offensive.'  'Ok fair enough.  But just to be fair here sis, I _hate_ getting punched.  And I've told you that a dozen times.  But I'm unclear as to why it's such an offensive word?  I mean I know why but what I don't understand why it needs to be just outright removed.  It's a valid term and ignoring or banning it's usage just gives it way more impact than it deserves.'

And that's kind of my point.  You want the word to be understood, teach it.  Say it in the proper context.  Twain wasn't using the word to validate it, but instead to demonstrate the dialect of the time and place.  Ignoring it doesn't make the word go away.  Instead it builds up a taboo about it that can now be abused.  You know you can use it as a weapon. 

And I'm all for the empowerment of taking an insulting term and owning it as the marginalized group.  I get that.  Fag, dyke, nigga, all kinds of examples can be made to demonstrate this.  What I don't get is how this suddenly means to use the term in different contexts suddenly becomes a taboo.

Other than, as is being demonstrated, to edit a horrible part of history.  But folks, what goes for the individual goes for the society.  You want to fix a problem, you gotta own it and make it your own.  You have to be able to say aloud, 'The term nigger, used in a pejorative manner to describe black people, is an antiquated term that demonstrates past ideas of segregation and marginalization.'

You even have to be able to joke about it.  You have to be able to diffuse the word's power by recognizing it for what it is, a left over from bad ideas and bad actions. 

So c'mon now, say it with me.  Nigger.  It's a horrible word.  That still requires thought and understanding.  Imagine that, understanding our history, even the crappy parts.

Quitting

Come on in and enjoy the fire.  It's so nice out today, it's a shame I spent it vegetating in my house.  Well I was also inhabiting a part of my brain where I'm writing something.  I've got this super cool idea for a Shadowrun game and the characters and the story and all wonderful and stuff.  Anyhow.

So I'm quitting smoking.  Kinda.  I want some lungs back and I think I'd like to be in shape again.  Start riding the bike at the University gym for this semester see if I can stick with it.  But I gotta quit the smoking.  Of course I'm kinda cheating.  I went back to chew, which is where I started my tobacco kick.  But it allows me to keep from killing folks and breathing and eventually that will get reduced and I'll be tobacco free again. 

But as a public service I thought I'd list a few things the other folks around a quitting smoker can do to ease the transition.

1)  Don't ask how it's going.  If they want to talk about it, cool, but for most folks, reminding them they're quitting generally makes it worse.  Part of it is getting rid of the habit.  Cigarettes are both physically addicting and habit forming.

2)  Speaking of the addiction, nicotine is one of the hardest things to kick in the world.  Don't remind us how good we're going to feel because the DTs right now feel like fucking hell.  If you've quit anything physically addicting before you know this. 

3)  When the mood swings hit, just leave.  Trust me.  Trying to make it better, trying to point it out, or any other action is just going to go wrong.  WAY wrong.  Walk away.

4)  The money thing.  We don't care.  We're addicted.  Shaddup about the money thing.  Heroin addicts kill people for fucking nickles to get their drugs, don't remind us we're just as bad, if not worse, because the money thing?  Yeah, it's not the issue.

5)  Ask how you can support.  Reasonable requests should be done.  Unreasonable ones should be checked with appropriate authorities and considered.  :)

6)  If you're a former smoker, and you're one of those holier than thou motherfuckers who want everyone to quit like you did, stay far away from quitting smokers.  We hated your attitude before, and any sanctimonious comments you make now will be justifiable homicide.  I've got case files to prove it. 

7)  If you're a former smoker and you're one of those people that are cool with others smoking while you don't, stick around.  We quitters like you and want to emulate you.  You understand that quitting is a very personal thing and your support is awesome. 

8)  Before you say anything that you think is supportive of a quitting smoker, consider how it can be taken the wrong way.  If you find just one way it can be taken wrong, don't say it.  Physical injury will follow. 

9)  Remember above all else, this person is quitting a harsh damn addiction.  And smokers are openly discriminated against.  Yet other addictions are given all the support in the world.  Remember that.  If alcoholism is a disease, then so is smoking.  Treat it accordingly.

10)  If the person fails, don't do that 'Aw, you didn't make it,' or any other negative comments.  They are down enough as is for failing to quit.  Just leave it be and be cool.  If they really want to quit, they will.  If not, they won't.  Got it?

Hope these suggestions are helpful for any other folks dealing with folks who are kicking the smoking habit.  If not, well.  G'head, say something.  I dare you.  I need to vent some rage anyways. 

It's a new (Calander) Year.

Come on in and grab a seat near the fire.  It's a beautiful day, it's a fun time, and in general, life is pretty good.

So I gotta brag a bit.  I got a buncha new stuff.  A new 40" 1080p 120mHz LCD TV for a great deal.  It's a Samsung.  It's pretty.  It unfortunately confirms my general consumerism.  Cuz I also bought some Wii games to enjoy on the big TV.  The two Force Unleashed games because they were on sale.  As a side note, I'm a bad ass Sith.  I kicked Darth Vader and the Emperor's ass.  Oh and Access Communication was offering free cable packages with the rental of an HD/PVR.  HD TV is kinda awesome.

I also got a spanky new desk.  It's cherrywood with a glass top and all kinds of pretty.  And a filing cabinet.  And other stuff for the desk.  OH OH!  And my cybertree!!  It's a floor lamp with five individual lamps that have those totally awesome pose-able metal arms with five colourful flower lights and it's my cybertree.  My cybertree is awesome. 

Anyways, the best part of Christmas was how much time I got to spend with my girls and such.  It's totally sweet.  The Bear and Crow were lotsa fun, in fact they're over today and we're having ourselves a fun time.  :)

Oh and my Brother had a baby.  A beautiful little girl who is huge!  She was a bit overdue, and was over 8 lbs.  Full head of hair, very vocal and active, and was on the breast in moments.  One gorgeous new member of the family, born on Boxing Day.

So how was your holiday?  Anything interesting?